#but I'm done with chemo

[elv-arts]

I have been doing so so good and making stuff for vrchat in blender and unity and I've been having so much fun learning stuff now my brain isn't full of cotton from chemo!

My sona avatar:

I messed up somewhere with this one and the expressions won't play in vrc. Can't figure out what I did wrong but I'll get ot someday.

WIP Moth avatar:

The lower arms are just posable.

WIP floating apartment world:

[ID: My Sona Avatar - Image 1: A vrchat avatar of my sona who has white fur with freckle-like spots, a cat-like face, long stripey ears on the side of their head and little horns. They have short brown hair and blue-green eyes. They're wearing a green checkered shirt and beige cargo pants. They're making peace signs, posing for the camera. Image 2: the same avatar zoomed in from the shoulders up, looking towards a light bulb next to them.

WIP moth avatar - Image 1: a selfie of a white and brown moth person avatar with a very fluffy neck posing. Image 2: A full body picture of the moth avatar showing that it has 4 arms, lifting the left ones. It also shows the X and circle wing markings. The body is a flat brown colour and the limbs are stick-like.

WIP floating apartment world - Image 1: A red brick apartment with bay windows that looks like it was ripped out of the building it was part of, now floating in space. Little bits of rubble from the other apartments float above and below it. The remains of a fire escape are still attached to the wall, serving as a balcony and staircase up to the roof which would have been the upstairs neighbour's floor. Image 2: the view of space through one of the bay windows. End ID]

[crimeronan]

now that the elation of being on-paper sick has worn off i'm back to getting my feelings hurt by innocent posts. anyway someday within the next few months i'm gonna be on a bunch of prednisone or other steroids and then i'm gonna do all my dishes and clean my whole house and go swimming and do my job and fix my life and it's okay that i fucking suck at doing any of those things now because i have a debilitating physical disability.

snide posts about how depressed people need to put on their big-boy pants and take care of themselves are not actually about me because what i am contending with is not depression. what i am contending with is a progressive disease that destroys my muscles, skin, joints, and potentially lungs kidneys and brain. that is not the same as being too sad to get up and wash a dish.

generalized spoonie advice and outlooks feel too optimistic or out-of-touch or non-applicable to me because they aren't applicable to me because what i am contending with is not an average spoonie experience. it is a specific progressive disease that destroys my muscles, skin, joints, and potentially lungs kidneys and brain.

if i feel bad and need to rest and don't pull my weight in my relationships it's because i need to wait to be treated with steroids and in the meantime i just need to hold on. i am not required to do anything else to take care of myself. my body is eating itself with a condition that has a high rate of fatal complications and literally my only job is not to die.

my only job is not to die. that is the only thing i need to do right now. any posts saying that people need to do anything else for self-care or for being a good person or for having healthy relationships are not applicable to me, because my circumstances are highly specific. healthy people need to take steps to better their lives. people like me need to rest until our doctors can help us because overtaxing ourselves might kill us.

a depressed person being too sad and hopeless and miserable to get up is being lied to by their brain. my brain is not lying to me when it tells me that i need to rest because my body is on fire.

my only job right now is not to die.

[heron-iles]

Oh boy how fast life changes

[sketchesandnonesense]

Since i now have access to The Tools I have ideas for more silly lil standees that're wood n have layers for details n Stuff

Also a nash head pin bc i got an idea how id paint/layer it

[stonersolana]

i hope she burns. i hope she suffers the fate she placed herself in the way of. i hope she learns what true, genuine suffering is and i hope it eats away at her until there's nothing left. i hope she learns what it's like to be truly alone. i hope she learns what real, lasting pain is.

i hope that lying manipulative gaslighting piece of shit feels everything she put me through and i hope it breaks her. i have no compassion for someone who manipulated and gaslighted me for (5)years only to say the most ableist shit and claim that she feels no guilt for what she did to me and that her shitty boyfriend is a harmless angel(yeah, tell that to the hole in the wall he punched). she can make herself look like a victim, she's a spectacular liar, but that won't ever change the truth.

what a sick, disgusting, cowardly, ignorant and immature bitch.

[strawberrypaw]

ohhh i feel like i'm dying

[seananmcguire]

I know I periodically ask people to look at Alice, but I would like to explain why.

That, above, is Alice when she was just ten days old. It was December 2008, and I had gone to Seattle to prepare to die. I was tired, I was dealing with a massive disruption in my social circle, and I was done. So I went to see friends, and to say my goodbyes before I went home and politely made my exit. I had a fully articulated plan, and no desire to tell people about it, which is not a good place to be.

Then we went to visit Betsy, who had recently ushered a litter of kittens into the world. And she put this little blue tabby potato in my hand and said "That's the girl."

And just like that, I decided to live. "Do you take checks?" I replied, and Alice entered my life.

(That makes it sound much easier than it was. Betsy was intending to keep Alice, who was without flaw by Maine Coon breed standards. Seriously, she was the kind of cat breeders work to produce for their entire careers. I spent two months wearing Betsy down before she agreed to let me have her.)

Alice was my first Maine Coon. Alice was my heart and soul somehow walking around outside of my body. She was without flaw. She was everything I wanted in this world, and she loved me as much as I loved her, and I would happily trade a year of my life for another hour with her in my arms.

In 2017, I went to Australia as a convention guest, and when I came home, Alice wasn't right. She was always food-motivated, and she was refusing to eat. I made a vet appointment immediately, and we started the necessary tests to find out what was wrong. Roughly a month later, while I was at another convention, my vet called me.

"I am so so sorry," she said, and the world ended.

Alice had large-cell feline lymphoma. It wasn't a surgically treatable cancer; we were going to have to go through chemo, and hope. So we did. And we did everything it was possible to do. Thanks to my Patreon, there was never a point where I had to decline treatment due to money, and I know what an incredible gift that was. Bit by bit, she faded, but she was still my Alice, and we were still fighting.

Then, on February 13th, 2018, I woke up and she was stretched out along my side from hip to knee, making the worst sound I have ever heard every time she took a breath. I didn't want to let her go. I could no longer make her stay. We left for the vet immediately, and my oncologist agreed that she was done; she was ready to go, and the last gift she gave me was staying by my side, not running and hiding like most cats would.

I held her. I sang "Beautiful Beast" for her. And she went ahead of me to the clearing at the end of the path, to the place she stopped me from going.

I miss her more than I knew I could miss anything in this world. She was my best friend and my favorite thing, and my mother told people I'd lost a child to explain why I would just wander around, dead-eyed and sobbing. Alice saved me when I didn't think it was possible, and I'm grateful; I have no such plans at this point.

But fuck my poor, broken heart, I just want her to come home. And in the absence of that as an option, I want everyone to look at Alice.

Please look at my poor girl.

[salchat]

Today I decided I was going to do whatever the hell I liked, because it's chemo day tomorrow (again). But then I ended up doing lots of useful stuff. Huh. So I needed a reward, and drawing this cute little Dean seemed like a great reward!

I decided to use my neocolor crayons. They look like Crayola, but they're a bit bigger and much softer.

They blend and layer really well and they're also water-soluble, but I didn't use that feature here. They don't erase, obviously, although once you've got a few layers on the paper, you can scratch them off with a knife. Anyway, erasing isn't an issue, usually - you just go over the top. So you don't have to get all over-careful and 'Oh, no! What if I go wrong!'

Here's my rough first stage:

I chose the blue at random, out of my little tub of lots of colours. Not that I haven't looked at colour theory - I have. But I prefer to go with a childlike, 'ooh, pretty colour!' approach.

Here's stage two:

I put some shadows in and attempted to get his mouth in the right place. Dean’s mouth is always the hardest bit!

Next:

I find if I go over the whole lot in a flesh colour I can get more of a sense of what's working and what's not. I used a salmon pink, but any of the pale pinks would have done.

It's getting there, isn’t it? Looking a bit more Dean-like. His mouth still needs a lot of work. Typical...

So, yes, there's way too much highlighting around his mouth, but I've got the shape and position better. And his eyes are looking reasonable.

Oh. Whoops. Sorry! I got a bit carried away and forgot to do more progress shots!

Anyway, here he is, corrected as far as I can so you can see the actual colours. The paper's a lovely rich orange and the dark blue is juicy and bright and luminous.

I'm pretty pleased with him. In fact I love him. (Even though I can tell his eyes are just the tiniest bit squinty for some reason - probably because I didn't actually do the boring measuring-of-proportions stage that I really should definitely do, but don't because it's boring. Silly me.) I used the tiniest bit of white Sennelier oil pastel for the highlights. And if you're drawing in crayon or oil pastel, but can't afford Sennelier (which are stupidly expensive), just buy the white. It's well worth it.

Here's a close-up:

I might put him on my Redbubble, ArtBySalchat, if I remember.

Happy arting, fan artists!

[angryschnauzer]

January 11th 2024

Yeah its been a while since i updated. I haven't had the energy to if i'm honest, but here we go.

Hubby had his brain surgery end of November '23. The tumour they took out was a nasty one, somewhere between the size of a golf ball and a kiwi fruit. The wound has healed well with little to no side affects apart from some double vision, but he was checked out for that and it is a common after affect of brain trauma and was remedied with an eyepatch for a few weeks.

We met with the Neuro Oncology team at Royal Marsden Hospital in London. They are one of the best (if not the best) cancer treatment centres in the whole country, and we worked through a treatment plan.

Just before Christmas hubby was also cleared to have shoulder reconstructive surgery (he broke his shoulder bone in the original seizures back at the end of October '23). There was a really small window of time between it being enough time after the brain surgery that he could go back under general anaesthetic, but also enough time to mostly heal before he started Radiotherapy and Chemo, so just 5 days before Christmas hubby was in and out of our local hospital in a single day to have that surgery.

Christmas was a quiet and subdued affair. I also herniated a disk in my back the day Hubby had surgery (i was clearing the deep freeze out ready for grocery delivery), so it meant both he and I were dosed up to our eyeballs on strong painkillers for most of the holiday, and Little Dude spent the majority of the break either playing video games or building his new lego sets.

Two days before Christmas i also had to have emergency dental work (i had been grinding my teeth and had previously cracked a tooth) and whilst i was in the dentists office some utter idiot crashed into my car. That was the last thing i needed but i simply handed it all over to my insurance company (who are aware of my husbands situation) and they arranged a hire vehicle and sorted repairs.

Onto the start of 2024. This is the first week of Radiotherapy and Chemo for Hubby. He is getting very tired and fatigued already from the Radiotherapy, but thankfully no nausea from the chemo as yet, but that could change over time. He is scheduled for a full schedule of 6 weeks of this dual treatment, where we are having to visit Royal Marsden every day Mon - Fri for the six weeks, and then he also takes the chemo 7 days a week for the six weeks.

He'll then have 4 to 6 weeks 'off' treatment for his body to relax and recuperate, but will have scans and MRI's during that time to gauge what further treatment will be, but its likely to be just chemo but a stronger dose, but no radiotherapy. The chemo is to be 3 weeks off one week on, so a 4 weekly cycle.

The one thing we have discovered isn't done is prognosis's. When we first got to Royal Marsden we were shocked as they started talking about years, and explained that although it was a really nasty tumour, it was found very early and whilst it was still relatively small for its kind. They've discussed things like 'this years treatment plan then we'll look at next years', and also for a while Hubby was being considered for a clinical trial which candidates who have prognosis's of 12 months+ are only considered for. In the end he didn't meet the criteria (his cholesterol was too high). The Macmillian Nurses also have been talking to us about Mobility Car assistance schemes where you can get govt assistance financially and get an adapted vehicle on a 2 year rolling lease. All these timings are reassuring in one way, but worrying in another - we have no idea what the future holds and it really does cement in stone that our time is limited and could end any moment, and makes it very difficult to make any long term plans. You don't realise how much of your life is preplanned until you end up in this situation and aren't sure if you can book your kid onto the school residential trip in 5 months time.

Should anyone want the mundane daily day-to-day life updates you can follow me on my personal instagram @simone_with_an_e its generally a load of utter boring bollocks, but i try to keep it updated daily with updates when i can as its a lot easier to do 1 short paragraph than a big update.

For me my mental health is a little better now that i've had time to process Hubby's diagnosis and that he is getting treatment. There are still days or hours when i fall apart, and it could be something as simple as listening to a song on the radio as i drive back from dropping Little Dude at school and i realise the song would be lovely at his funeral. I end up having to pull over and have a cry whilst switching the radio off. I'm loosing weight and aging quickly, my hair is turning grey from stress and i realised i've aged about 15 years in the last 3 from stress. My appetite comes and goes, and things like red meat now turn my stomach and i can't digest it. But i also haven't drunk alcohol since the day before Hubby had his seizure back in October. I feel like i need to stay 'alert' in case i need to rush him to the hospital for something. I don't miss it as such, but I miss the ability to fully relax. Its hard to describe but i feel like at the moment i've lost myself and am just functioning to care for those around me, going through the motions as such.

Anyway, this has been a long update. I do still lurk here, you may see me pop up in notifications liking something, but at the moment i don't feel its right to start putting fandom stuff back on here yet. I do hope to get back to writing at some point. I miss it and the unfinished stories plague my mind as i have such lovely plans for story arc's and really want to finish them.

Take care all,

Schnauz

xxx

[bangchansgirlsblog]

My biggest regret

Part nine

**

"Y/n?" His voice was soft trying to wakeup her up from her sleep. "Baby, you need to wakeup and eat,"

Chan softly shook her body.

Her eyes slowly flutter open. She was tired and exhausted from the chemo she had just recieved a few hours ago. It was obvious.

"Hey," she said. A tiny smile played on her lips as she stirred. "What time is it?"

"8:10 and mum said that you haven't eaten ever since you got home with Hannah. Let's go eat and you can come back and rest yeah?" He sat by her and slowly stroked her hair trying to keep her awake.

He had showered and his hair was wet. He was dressed in a shirt and a pair of shorts. His silver hoops were on and he had his silver bracelet on.

"Okay, I'll shower first and come down stairs," she finally gave in and slowly (with the help of Chan) sat up on the bed. "Where's Hannah?" She asked rubbing her eyes.

"She went out with her friends but she'll be home in a bit, do you need help with anything? I haven't done this whole care taker thing ever since I left so I totally forgot how it works," He frowned.

"No it's fine Chan," she giggled appreciating his concern and effort, "I can shower on my own, go ahead and eat. I'll be down in a few."

"I wanna wait for you though," his hands intertwine with hers. Y/n liked that he was being so clingy. They hadn’t had time to be close to eachother all day and she missed him.

"Okay then, I'll hurry up and we can go," his face brightened and his hands automatically carry her out of bed and into the bathroom.

"Channie you have to get out so I can change," Her laugh was so contagious that Chan couldn't help but break his act.

"Fine, call me if you need anything. I'm right outside," and with that he closed the door behind him and let her shower and get dressed.

Dinner was quiet. Everyone enjoyed the hot home cooked meal that was before them as they discussed their day. The boys explained the little things they did in order to prepare for their show in a few days while the parents talked about how proud they were and how they loved watching them grow. The usual.

"There's a party tomorrow night-"

"Ou a party I'm so in!" Hannah exploded out of nowhere interrupting Changbin causing everyone to laugh.

"Where is this party? And will there be adults?" Chan's mum asked.

"Mum. We're literally grown men," Chan chuckled.

"Oh sorry, I'm sorry. It's a habit," she laughed while covering her face in embarrassment.

"It's fine Mrs.B," Han assured her, "Your good but yeah the party is at one of our idol friends. She leaves 30 minutes away,"

"Oh lovely! Well I hope you guys won't be out late at night. It's Christmas time nothing is safe,"

"Mum can I please go?" Hannah dropped her fork.

"No Hannah, these are Chan's friends."

"Chan can I please come? I promise I'll behave and I'll do your laundry for the rest of the time your here and I'll even forget the fact that you ghosted me for 4 years of my-"

"Fine, fine you can come," Chan throws his hands up in the air in surrender.

"You can go BUT Y/n has to go with you Hannah," Chan’s dad instructed.

"What? But dad you know she doesn't like partying!" Hannah rebelled. She was determined to go for the party and it showed.

"Well then, you'll have to convince her because no Y/n, no party,"

"Y/n come on! You have to come," Seungmin encouraged her, "It'll be so much fun!"

Y/n looked around the table. She didn't know what to do. A part of her really didn't want to go to the party. It wasn't her thing but a part of her didn't want to disappoint Hannah or the boys. So she let out a sigh.

"Fine I'll ask my mum,"

This alone made Hannah jump into her arms squealing and leaving kisses on her face before she got a scolding from bangchan.

"Yah! Don't you know she just got chemo?! She's tired! Get off," chan scolded his younger sister.

"Whatever grandpa, Y/n's my wife anyway," Hannah stuck her tongue out before climbing of the now laughing Y/n and sitting besides her.

Chan’s dad rubbed Y/n back before whispering in a joking matter, "Y/n good luck tomorrow,"

"Thanks. I'm going to need it uncle," the boys cheered, giving her the motivation she needed.

**

The next day. 8:15 pm

The music was loud. The room was hot and it stunk. Y/n didn't like any bit of it. She hated it. She wanted to be home sleeping in her bed but she was here instead...

"Let's go get drinks!" Hannah's voice rung through her ear. She simply nodded and followed behind her closely. Trying to avoid the popular rich kids. She had no intention of getting any type of attention but if you arrive to a party with THE straykids you kinda already attract attention anyway.

Once they had arrived to the party, the boys had been each pulled away by someone. Everyone wanted a peace of them. Everyone wanted their attention and that left the girls alone in the middle of the room trying to navigate their way through people they didn't even know.

"Here, it's non-alcoholic," Hannah passed her the cup while filling up hers with the drink that had alchohol in it.

"Don't get too wasted Hannah, I don't know these people and-" before she could even finish her sentence I.N was already by her side pulling her away from the now lost Y/n.

"Fuck," she whispered to herself before looking around trying to look for Chan.

People were staring at her weird and she didn't like it. Was it cause she was the only sober person in the room? Did they know about her and Chan? Did they like her? Was she dressed weird?

The thoughts run through her head as she consumed her drink. She didn’t want to start panicking when they just got here. It hadn’t even been 45 minutes.

She was going to enjoy this party. She was already here anyway.

The music wasn't that much enjoyable but she was able to stand it for the moment while she padded through the crowds.

"Felix!" She called out for the boy who was sat on the couch with two females in his arms. One on the left and on the right. This took her by surprised because She felt uncomfortable but decided to shrug it off because who was she? she barely new him so she couldn't say anything about it.

"Hey Y/nnie!" He was drunk. Y/n could instantly tell, "Whatsup babygirl? Looking for someone? Having fun?" He removed his hands off the girls and decided to pay attention to Y/n because in his state right now. He was going to flirt with her. He didnt care what anyone around him thought.

Both girls looked iirtated by her presence. Who was she? They had never seen her before and yet here she was stealing their “man” who in all honesty didn’t even know their names.

"Felix where's Chan? I've looked everywhere and-"

"Cannonball!!" A loud, familiar voice yelled before the sound of water splashing and gasps run through the room. Who was that? Y/n didn’t even bother to look.

"Y/nnie, do you wanna smoke?" Felix pushes the girls off before standing up (barley even making it)

"Felix you're drunk, this isn't good. I hope the boys aren't as wasted as you. We should get you some water,"

"Oh your cute, you know that right?" His eyes were red and her eyes landed on his shirt because it was halfway unbuttoned. “My eyes are up here babygirl,”

"Thank you but come on, let's go to the kitchen Lix,"

"I like it when you call me Lix," he giggled. Y/n was shook. Why was he like this? Her hand wrapped around him and guided him into the kitchen and she helped him sit down on the stool. She grabbed the bottle of water and started feeding it to him.

His hands wrapped around her waist so he would fall backwards.

"You smell- you smell nice," he hiccuped through sips, "and you have pretty hair, pretty eyes, pretty face and you're thick as fu-"

"Felix! I think you should just keep quiet," Y/n said feeling embarrassed, "sit here and drink water, I'm going to check on the other guys,"

"Okay, yes ma'am," he sat up straight and stayed as still as he could. Y/n found this amusing all though she was extremely worried.

She was wondering around the room when she decided to check in any of the boys were outside and indeed she found Han...in the pool. In the pool? In the pool! In. The. Pool. Everything made sense. He was the one yelling a few minutes ago.

"Jisung! I swear to God if you don't get out this instant-"

"Y/nnie! Come swim with us!" He slurred trying to pull himself out of the pool. Her anger was slowly growing. She was frustrated but mostly shocked because yes they could do whatever they wanted but she thought they would be atleast responsible.

“Han you need to get out the pool and put on clothes or else you’ll end up falling sick!” She exclaimed while grabbing his clothes off from the floor.

“Fine but you’re such a buzz kill,” he pouted and grabbed the clothes out of her hands before proceeding to go back into the house.

She followed him just in case he decided to go back into the pool but he didn’t. He entered the bathroom got dressed and followed her to the kitchen where they both found Felix making out with some random girl.

She was disappointed but she didn’t want to say anything. Making note to talk about this later when she had calmed down.

“Okay, both of you just drink water. Please. You can barely walk,” she passed Han a bottle of water and watched him drink it all. As she monitored the boys she couldn’t help but worry about Chan and his whereabouts. She needed to find him quick because she was ready to go home.

They had been there for 3 hours and she had enough of it.

“Han have you seen Chan?” She asked him.

“Hm…Maybe- I’m trying to think here. Oh! Check upstairs,” His words were a bit hard to understand but she understood it.

“Thank you,” she grabbed her phone off the table and made her way up the stairs.

There were a few couples making out by the stairs case but she wasn’t phased by it. She just wanted to go home.

The second floor had four rooms.

Her sweaty hands open the first door and she could not believe her eyes.

“Leeknow?!” She screamed. “Leeknow?! ew! That’s so disgusting!” She covered her eyes and slammed the door shut. Whatever she saw she swore never to talk about it again.

You’re probably wondering what she saw. Well…Uhm. Let’s just say he was busy and he was sweaty.

Her head was spinning and her eyes were burning. Someone was smoking a blunt so it was understandable but she knew this wasn’t safe for her or her condition so she rushed through each door until she stopped on the fourth door.

She quickly opened it thinking she wouldn’t find Chan but there he was. Sat on the bed. His legs spread apart and a-

a blonde girl in between his legs? He was smiling and stroking her hair. Then he leaned in and they started to make out.

She watched in horror. Her heart shattered into a million pieces. She couldn’t believe it.

But are we really surprised?

**

The book gets crazier lol

Tags 🏷️: @ka0ila @lozurcoz @lixie-phoria @kai-lee08 @moonofthenight @greyyeti @jinnie-ret @yangbbokari @sungprotector @felixoasis @leetaste @hanniemylovelyquokka

[violetsiren90]

All I Haven't Said | Namjoon/Reader

💜 Chapter 3: Part 2 💜

Table of Contents: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 (part 1), Chapter 3 (part 2)

Pairing: idol!Namjoon/f!Reader

Genre: Soulmate AU; idol AU; chapter fic; strangers to lovers; a bit of idiots to lovers, tbh; slow burn; eventual romance; eventual smut; angst (life is messy & hearts are complex); OT7 featured

Summary: You found your soulmate - or rather, he found you. Turns out he's an idol of much acclaim who needs you for very real and unglamorous reasons. What could become of two hearts so used to giving of themselves when they are confronted with needing each other?

Chapter Word Count: ~7k

Chapter Warnings: This fic is 18+, as is all my work and my page as a whole; depictions of cancer and its treatment; secondhand embarrassment; awkward situations; soulmate skinship; loss of consciousness; dudes dude-broing a bit lol; mentions of minor character death (in past); cursing; chemo therapy and its symptoms; nausea and vomiting; characters eat meals; Reader is starting to grapple with some difficult feelings; Hybe kinda sorta depicted as being collective assholes in responding to this situation (gonna be a theme, guys)

Author's Note: Here comes part two! I know this is months coming (again), but I've finally found my stride with writing and work. I had this mostly done, and then redid some parts and finished editing, and well...I just hope you all enjoy it! My hope is to post part three in two weeks - I really want to get into a groove with plot progression here!

There is a lot of content in this chapter about medical procedures and treatment. I tried my best to represent these as accurately as possible with what information I could acquire, but if there are any misrepresentations, great or small, please don't hesitate to let me know!

Thank you again to all who have stuck with this story! I continue to be blown away by how much love you have all showered upon it, and I'm so excited to walk the path I intend for these two and have you all along for the ride!!

P.S. If you want to join the tag list, drop me a comment or an ask!

P.P.S. If no one has told you yet today, you're loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

"Out of sheer taciturnity the ceiling listens To the fall of ancient leafless rain, To feathers, to whatever the night imprisoned." ~Pablo Neruda

Chapter 3: My Windows Ache

Namjoon's labs had come back with even more promising numbers. A radiology scan had shown no shrinkage in his tumors, but the doctors commented that these were early days, and that the effects of the bond might even be keeping them from inflaming due to the chemo. You had watched him, smiling as the doctor reviewed the result, and couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. Your soulmate was on the road to recovery. 

     Nurse Cha quickly checked both of you over before initiating another skinship session.

     "I saw you out on the grounds earlier, and for the first time in weeks," she said, shooting Namjoon an approving grin. "Keep that up. He needs sunlight and fresh air," she remarked to you, flustering you even as you nodded in agreement.

     Why was she telling you that? Were you his keeper?

     Actually, you supposed, in fact, you were.

     You peeked back up at him and found him regarding you with a small, amused smile, which disconcerted you further. You shook your head, shooting him an eye-roll as you made your way into the bathroom to disrobe.

     After your first few experiences with skinship, you had asked Matt to acquire you some sporty, conservative sports bra and boy-short sets, and you slipped into one, pulling a hospital gown over it. After the way your conversation with Hyung-seo had unfolded you were glad to have them - the practical underwear felt far less intimate and flirty than your typical bras and panties, giving you much more peace of mind. 

     As you left the bathroom and made your way back to Namjoon's half of the suite, you noticed him sitting on top of the covers, long legs stretched out in front of him, in nothing but a black tee and blue boxers. He had a drip attached to a tube that ran under his shirt. When Nurse Cha glanced up from her touchscreen tablet to see you approaching, she waved her hand for you to come around to the other side of the bed, which had been adjusted to accommodate Namjoon's upright position.

     "We’re going to try this sitting up today," she explained as she typed. "He's on a chemo drip right now, and the doctor wants to see if the bond will help ease the nausea and some of the other side effects. I heard you just had a nice lunch, so it would be wonderful if Namjoon could hang onto his."

     She shot him a rueful smirk and he let out a chuckle. You smiled in turn and nodded as you slipped off your hospital gown and draped it over the end of the bed. You glanced up at Namjoon who had cast his eyes down at his hands, folded in his lap. The huge apparatus was lower than usual, so you slipped rather easily into it and against Namjoon's side. He raised an arm to drape over your shoulders and you settled against him, pressing your bare leg against his. It was comical how much shorter yours were, but you could only think of that for a fraction of a second as every other thought in your mind melted at the feeling of the man beside you.

     Butter. Warm, melted butter. It was as if every single muscle group in your body had suddenly released every bit of tension it had been holding. So many sensations at once, but this was the one you felt like leaning into at the moment. You felt like collapsing against him.

He sighed deeply through his nose. Yeah, you felt that on a spiritual level. Mmh. 

     Your melty, bond-induced reverie was broken, however, by a dissatisfied noise from Nurse Cha as she stepped toward the bed. You looked up to find her expression matched her tone. 

     "You're not really getting much contact," she said, scanning her eyes over everywhere you touched...and didn't. 

     You raised your arms slightly and a bit uselessly. You felt Namjoon lean forward.

     "Should I...like..." you looked to her for direction, but she was already in motion. 

     She grabbed your arm, guiding you off the bed and motioned for Namjoon to scoot back to the middle. She said something to Namjoon in Korean and suddenly he was tugging his shirt over his head. You felt your cheeks getting hot. Social norms had not prepared you for this amount of casual nudity. You stood there, eyes glued to Nurse Cha, hugging your arms over your middle and hoping that Namjoon was playing his usual blessed game of "look anywhere but soulmate". The nurse took your arm again and guided you back toward your previous perch.

     "Sit between his legs and lean back against his chest," she instructed, nudging you to join him.

You looked up at Namjoon. His face looked like you felt. And then it was just too much. You were standing in a hospital in South Korea in your underwear being asked to sit in a practically naked celebrity's lap so that he wouldn't die.

     You busted out laughing.

     Nurse Cha jumped, surprise clear in her features as she regarded you. 

     "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" You gasped, bending over to support yourself against the bed as you continued to chuckle, "This is just..."

     You snorted. Mortified but still attempting to swallow your giggles you clapped a hand over your mouth and looked up at Namjoon whose dimples were out and whose shoulders were shaking with his own silent amusement. Nurse Cha's lips curved up a bit to one side, but her narrowed eyes spoke of far less hilarity felt.

     "Here's the thing," you said, turning to the nurse while still biting back your laughter, "Namjoon is spoken for, and...well...I have a pretty nice ass."

     The nurse's eyes widened.

     You were probably being really impolite. That would have been borderline in the States. You weren't sure about here, but you felt like that might have broken some unspoken rules. Or, maybe spoken ones because there were a lot of formalities, you were learning. But you had reached your limit with all this. The awkwardness levels were at maximum, and you were gonna cope the only way you knew how - with humor.

     When you hazarded a look at your soulmate, he had drawn his knees up, grabbing them with his hands, his head dropped between them and his shoulders shaking as he badly repressed laughter of his own. You could see those dimples again. They were even deeper than before.

     "We need to get maximum skin-to-skin contact during these sessions," Nurse Cha insisted indignantly, clearly a bit flustered. 

     "I know, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you offered her a contrite smile as you rocked back on your feet. 

     "Ah!" Namjoon drew your attention as he pointed behind you. "Throw me that pillow?" 

     You grabbed the little green cushion from the corner of the couch and tossed it to him. He lowered his legs and placed it over his lap.

     "How's that?" he asked with a closed-lip smirk.

     You gave him a thumbs up and clambered back onto the bed to situate yourself between his legs. You looked back over at Nurse Cha. 

     "Better?" 

     She raised a brow as she handed you a blanket. You thanked her quietly and cleared your throat as you fanned it out over your legs and Namjoon's, tucking it up to your waist. The nurse checked Namjoon's vitals and said that she would return in an hour to take him off the drip.

     You sank back tentatively against your soulmate's chest, careful to avoid the little port below his sternum. There it was again. Butter.

     Somewhere above and behind you, Namjoon chuckled. You smiled knowingly.

     "What?" you asked indignantly.

     "Did you see her face when you said that?"

     You shrugged against him.

     "Hey, it's true!" you insisted.

     "Sorry if this is uncomfortable for you," he murmured.

     You could hear that he was still smiling, but he sounded serious all the same. You let your head fall back.

     "Honestly, I felt bad for you," you huffed in another laugh before sobering. "And, thank you," you turned, casting your eyes up over your shoulder, "For always being so respectful. It's made this a lot easier."

     "Oh," Namjoon responded softly, "Of course." 

     You looked at his arms resting at his sides and thought of what Nurse Cha had said. You slowly picked up his hands in yours, raising them slightly.

     "May I put them around me? For more contact," you asked.

     You asked it boldly, but you felt shy. You wanted the chemo to work. You wanted it to stop hurting him while it did. When Namjoon let out a low hum of assent you drew his forearms around your waist and laid your own over them.

     Your eyes slipped shut. So euphoric but it always made you feel like sleeping. You weren't going to give into the urge, though, not just yet. There were conversations to be had.

     "Tell me about Hyung-seo," you prompted softly, shifting against him to get comfortable. 

     He was quiet for a moment.

     "Well," he responded slowly, "what do you want to know?"

     "How did you meet her?"

     He went quiet again. Then he sighed a small sigh. You wondered what that little breath carried.

     "She debuted in 2019. A buddy of mine - Seo Jungkwon, he goes by Tiger JK in the industry -  had signed her to his agency. Bangtan was just taking off, things were blowing up. I actually collaborated with him which is when I met her."

     He silenced for a moment.

     "We had a lot in common - how we approached life and music."

     "Had?" you asked, gently.

     He heaved another sigh. 

     "The last few years have been really tough on her. I mean, she hasn't had an easy life to begin with, but..."

     He paused, as if deciding whether or not to utter the words he wanted to say next.

     "Anyway," he redirected himself, and you wondered what thought he had dismissed, "Preparing for a tour is grueling, and this is her first one. I think the stress is really getting her."

     You hummed in acknowledgement. You recognized it in his voice - you should after all, as the same sound had echoed so often in your own - the hollow clemency of lying to yourself on someone else's behalf. 

     "Well," you offered, "She's lucky to have you supporting her, especially when you're going through such a difficult time yourself."

     Namjoon scoffed.

     "I mean, yeah, I'm sick, but...I don't know. In a lot of ways my life has been a lot easier these days. A lot simpler."

     "Really? In what way?"

     He huffed out a wry laugh.

     "I have so much time to just do whatever. Read, write...I've been learning a couple of languages. I get to do v-lives with ARMY pretty regularly, as the company allows - Jungkook went kind of crazy with it before enlistment so we have to go through them for access now."

     You had no idea what a v-live was, but from what little you had seen of Jungkook, you could imagine it took very little for him to get up to a significant amount of shenanigans. You smirked.

     "Did you have so little time for those things before?" you queried.

     "No! No way. It was like running non-stop for ten years. During my time in the military, I got a bit of a break and a change, but then I got sick and had to be discharged early, so...well, I didn't even get to experience that like I should have."

     You felt your hands tighten in response around his forearms. His life hadn't been cake-walk either, that was clear. You wondered if he knew that, if he acknowledged it.

     "Well, I'm glad you have more time for those things. You should keep as much time for them as you can, even when you're better."

     He paused for a moment before whispering agreement into your hair. You felt it even though he didn't say it, the caveat - if he got better. He would. You'd never make him a promise you couldn't guarantee, but you could make one to yourself. So you did.

     For the rest of the session you talked about Bangtan, and the recent history of the group's situation.

     You learned about conscription and that it applied to idols as well. You learned the members had decided to enlist pretty much around the same time so that they could reunite to tour again after being discharged. Namjoon had been released ahead of schedule when he had fallen ill, and at this point most of the members had followed, save Yoongi who was set to be discharged the following week. He fondly reported that they were all anxious to meet you, and that Jungkook and Jimin hadn't stopped pestering him with all manner of questions in your regard since their visit the previous day.

     Every time you had heard him speak about his members, the deep brotherly affection that permeated his words was incredibly evident. 

You asked him to tell you about each one, and he did.

     You blinked your eyes open as you felt Namjoon shift you in his arms. You slowly pulled yourself forward, struggling to focus.

     "I...I'm sorry," you murmured, "I fell asleep on you again." 

     Namjoon chuckled and assured you it was quite alright. As you wearily slipped off the mattress to stand, you suddenly felt the room tilt and your knees buckle. Namjoon's reflexes were quick enough to catch you in his arms. He stood to pull you up and hold you against him.

     "You okay?" he asked in concern.

     "I...I got dizzy..."

     You attempted to put your weight into your legs, but failed, sagging weakly against his broad frame.

     Nurse Cha was already in motion.

     "Help her to the bed," she ordered, striding across the room. 

     Namjoon wasted no time in scooping you up in a bridal carry to follow her. You gasped despite yourself, the sudden movement and his strength equally surprising. But every thought was fleeting as you found yourself struggling to maintain a grip on consciousness.

     You felt Namjoon lay you gently on the bed as cold, sticky monitors were pressed to your skin; heard him ask the nurse what was the matter, his voice tinged with anxiety. 

You heard him say your name.

     And then you heard nothing.

     You groaned as you came to. Your throat felt like the Sahara and your head was pounding. Pushing yourself to sit up, you became aware of the sound of voices on the other side of the curtain. Carefully drawing your legs to the edge of the bed, you clutched your IV stand as you struggled to your feet.

     Pulling back the hanging divider, you were surprised to see Matt occupying the little couch, a cup of coffee on the low table in front of him. Namjoon sat in the opposing chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees in rapt attention as the older man spoke. It was dark out.

     "Matt," you croaked, shuffling forward.

     Namjoon's head whipped around at the sound of your voice and he sprang up, just a moment faster than his guest, striding over to take you by the arm. You faltered just a moment in your steps as his hand cradled your elbow and you felt it - his touch and what it did to you. You wanted to curl into him. You wanted him to hold you.

You gently tugged your arm away.

     "You're awake - let me call the nurse," he said, almost to himself as he moved to press the red call button. 

     You sank down beside Matt.

     "What time is it?" you asked in a husky murmur. Your friend checked his watch.

     "1:33am."

     You frowned, blinking blearily.

     "What the heck are you doing here at the hour?"

     "Well!" Matt laughed before taking a sip of his coffee, "It's nice to see you too."

     "You know what I mean..." you grumbled, rubbing your eyes.

     "He called me," he said, gesturing with his raised mug toward Namjoon, who had returned to the armchair. "Said you'd had a fainting spell."

     Your eyes followed his motion to your soulmate, who was already scanning his over you, brow furrowed and full lips pursed pensively.

     "How are you feeling?" Namjoon asked.

     You huffed out a mirthless chuckle.

     "Like I got hit by a freight train."

     The worry lines on his brow deepened.

     "Hey, look..." you held up a hand to wave it weakly between both men as they regarded you in apparent concern. "I'm probably just adjusting to the bond or something. Cancer isn't contagious, you know," you ribbed, shooting a tiny smirk at Namjoon who attempted to return the expression though the smile didn't reach his eyes.

     The night shift nurse and an aid entered the room to assess you. Namjoon asked to speak with a doctor, and was told that Dr. Na would be checking in first thing in the morning. The nurse had very little else to report other than that your blood work had been sent to the lab and that they would be able to determine more once your results were available. He informed Matt that some charts would likely be available in twenty-four hours, but that your CMP could take up to three days. The aid urged you to try to get some more rest. Before departing, the nurse removed your spent sodium chloride drip and said that a meal would be sent up which you were advised to eat if possible, but to be sure to report any signs of food-rejection should they appear.

     Namjoon stood and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he gazed at your little portion of the suit.

     "They want you to rest, but how the hell are you supposed to sleep with me over here snoring? It's keeping you up, right?"

     You smirked.

     "Well, most of my rest over the last couple of days has been due to a lack of consciousness, but I do have to admit that you woke me up a couple of times last night."

    Namjoon groaned discomfitedly.

     "It really isn't a big deal!" you reassured him, "I'm a pretty sound sleeper."

     "And still I woke you up."

     "Don't worry about it..."

     "It's not just that, though," he insisted, hands in the pockets of his sweats and head cocked to one side as he continued to consider the small space across from his. "You don't even have a window. If you want privacy, you have to sit behind that curtain in the tiny bed -- I hate it. I've hated it since they were first preparing for you to arrive. I'll make some calls tomorrow. You need your own room," he stated decidedly, returning to the chair across from you.

He fished his phone out of his pocket and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he fired off a message.

     Namjoon did have a point, it was a pretty meager space you currently occupied. But they must have had a reason, you thought, for wanting you to share a room with him. And you didn't want to cause any kind of fuss in the name of personal convenience that might detract from his treatment or recovery. 

     "Namjoon, it's fine..."

     He looked up at you, his brown eyes assured and determined.

     "Just let me handle it. I've got you."

     A sudden warmth spread through your chest like the rising sun on the frost of your anxieties, his gaze melting away the familiar worry of burdensomeness. You looked away shyly.

     "Good man," Matt said to him with a nod, and they shared a look as your soulmate nodded in return that seemed to be one of mutual masculine respect. You wanted to roll your eyes a little bit. You also felt pretty damn grateful.

     Matt stood to leave, pressing a kiss on your temple and promised that he'd return in the morning. He paused to shake Namjoon's hand.

     "If there are any further developments, don't hesitate to call me," he said, to which the younger man nodded in agreement.

     "Or I can call you!" you rasped after him as he raised his hand in one last gesture of farewell while shutting the door.

     You huffed.

     "Smart guy," Namjoon remarked, sitting back down in his chair. "You know he's read Toegye exhaustively?"

     You raised a brow at him, your lips quirking with a wry grin.

     "Two peas in a pod. He's probably going to be coming around here nonstop until he leaves just so you two can gab in genius."

     Namjoon smiled and touched his fingers absently to his jaw, his eyes trained on the linoleum.

     "Are you bothered that I called him?" he asked abruptly, glancing up at you.

     "What? No, of course not," you reassured him with a shake of your head. "I just..." You rolled your eyes and smirked. "I'm not used to sitting around while boys decide what's best for me."

     "Aaahhh," Namjoon responded with a nod, interlacing his fingers, "Well, you've been looking out for me since you walked through that door back there, and honestly, I could get used to that..." he leaned forward a bit, "But only if I get to return the favor. You said we don't owe each other, but that doesn't mean you get to be the only one doing the giving."

     You stared at him. The only one to do the giving. The words jarred something loose inside you. You swallowed the strange feeling that threatened to well into your throat.

     Before you could respond, an aid entered with your meal. A tray loaded with dakjuk, rice, and several banchan was placed before you. It smelled fantastic, and you actually felt you could eat. You moved to take the tray to your side of the suite but Namjoon stopped you.

"Hey, wait. I'm hungry. I'll eat with you."

He crossed to the other side of the room to pick up the telephone.

"Go ahead," he said with nod of his head a little grin, "Don't wait on me."

     He didn't have to twist your arm. The chicken porridge was steaming and savory, warming you up within just a few bites. A similar tray soon arrived for Namjoon, and you found it did feel far nicer to eat with someone than alone.

     Between bites he asked you about Matt.

     "He's my dad's best friend. When he died - my dad - Matt and his wife Rebecca helped to take care of us for a while. They've been really good to my family."

     Namjoon's face sombered.

     "I'm sorry about your father."

     You smiled softly at him.

     "It was a long time ago, when I was ten. He was a firefighter."

     He nodded quietly, giving you the opening to continue. You decided to take it.

     "A fire broke out at a high-security prison. The situation got really bad with a lot of people still inside - prisoners. They told the team to stop attempting rescues, that it wasn't worth it, for people like that. But my dad kept going. Alone. He saved seventeen more lives before...well, he couldn't make it out."

     When you looked up at Namjoon again his eyes were locked on you, his chopsticks resting idly in his hand.

     "Wow," he murmured after a pause. "And you were ten years old? That must have been so hard."

     You dragged your spoon through your dakjuk.

     "It was. But managing things after he was gone...that was harder, I think."

     Namjoon's brow knit in question but he didn't press you further. For the second time that night, you were grateful. Death was easy to explain, other things were much more difficult.

     You finished the rest of your meal chatting about Matt, Neo-Confucianism, and unequivocal humanism between mouthfuls of rice and porridge.

      The next day, you were moved into your new suite a few doors down. Namjoon had received no resistance from the hospital in procuring you the space, as apparently Hybe's representatives had been the ones to originate the request that you be at the idol's immediate disposal.

     Your room mirrored the setup of your soulmate's, being on the same floor but across the hall, and Kang Dae had dropped in with a catalog stating that you could select whatever you wished to make the space more comfortable. You had circled a few things and he had departed to procure them. Matt had brought the bulk of your luggage, which meant a good portion of books, your art supplies, and finally more clothes which you would blessedly now have no worries of mixing up with Namjoon's. You changed into jeans and a comfy Nirvana graphic tee.

     You were busy unpacking when a knock came at your door. You called for the person to come in while you continued to stack books onto a small set of shelves. The doctor had cautioned you and Namjoon against further skinship sessions until your blood work had come back, so you were anxious for the results, not wanting him to go through another bout of chemo without the aid of the bond. 

When you glanced up expectantly, however, you found your curiosity would have to wait - at least, concerning your charts - as in the entry stood none other than Kim Hyung-seo.

     She lingered in the entryway at the mouth of the space, her arms wrapped around her middle. She looked much more casual today in a pair of big baggy camouflage cargo pants, a tight black crop top, and chunky white sneakers. Her hair was pulled up into a bun, and she had black mask pulled under her chin. She was bare-faced, save for two small red dots under her right eye.

     You stood from your crouched position, trying your best to keep the surprise from your face.

     "Hi," you greeted her with a small smile, which she returned remorsefully, still hugging herself as she glanced around the room. "Would you like to sit down?" you offered, motioning to the furniture beside you. 

     She nodded, crossing over to take a seat in the little arm chair. You moved to sit across from her. Your first instinct was to offer her something to drink, only to realize you were in a hospital room with no way to deliver, at which you both laughed awkwardly. After a moment of tense silence, she looked up at you, gnawing her bottom lip.

     “I owe you an apology," she sighed. 

You gave her an encouraging smile.

     "Fuck..." she dropped her head in her hands, and you waited for her to collect herself. Finally, she raises her eyes to yours, interlacing her fingers with their long white nails in her lap. 

     "What I did...what I said yesterday...I was cunt. I'm sorry." 

     You let out a little laugh at her choice of words.

     "Well, I do accept your apology...but, don't be too hard on yourself. It was a really bizarre and unprecedented situation for all of us. I'm glad we're moving forward, and in a better direction."

You smiled again at her reassuringly.

     She nodded, her lips pursed and quivering slightly. You could tell she was blinking back tears.

     "Me and Joon...we'd only been engaged for a few weeks before we found out...you know, that he had a match. That it could be his only option to live - bonding. With you. It's just all really fucking scary."

     You nodded sympathetically. She released another sigh as she continued.

     "He had to decide so fast, they pushed him to just make this huge life commitment as fast as they fucking could and now..." She raised her arms, looking around the room in resign, "Here we are. And we have to figure everything out, and I'm about to leave and..."

     "I'm sorry," you murmured sympathetically.

She looked down into her lap, worry still twisting her features.

You wondered why she was leaving, now of all times - when things were the way they were. But that wasn't for you to judge.

"You know," you offered hopefully, "At least he's on the mend. At least you know he'll have someone to look after him."

     She hummed. You wondered if it was an agreement as her eyes flitted over your face searchingly. Anxiety from the previous day's encounter began to seep into your chest as you considered if you had chosen your words poorly. You had said what would have comforted you in under the same circumstances. But maybe you were different - too different.

You softened your heart, determined to reserve judgement. Life had given Hyung-seo had her own shoes, and you would do everything you could to understand what it was like to walk in them.

     "Can I add you on KakaoTalk?" you asked, realizing you were still clutching a book, and setting it onto the low table to pull your phone from your pocket.

     She was chewing on her lip again when you looked up. She stared down at the hardback. 

     "You read a lot, huh?" she asked, though it didn't sound like a question.

     "I do," you answered slowly, wondering where her train of thought was headed.

"All that stuff you said yesterday, you seem, like really in tune with people. And smart. You guys are, like, the same."

She pressed the words out in a strained voice. She looked so small and so sad. Your heart sank for her.

"Namjoon actually said that very thing about you yesterday."

She glanced up at you in surprise and confusion. You smiled.

"He said that when you met he was struck with how much you shared in how you saw the world, and how you approached music."

She regarded you silently as you continued.

"And that's your life right, your great love? Music? What a wonderful thing, to base your life with a partner in a love you share."

She nodded slowly, her eyes watering.

"Thank you," she finally whispered, and you nodded in understanding.

You reached out to take her hand and she squeezed yours. After a few moments of silence, she rose and wiped her eyes.

     "I'm leaving tomorrow and I want to see Joon again before I go," she explained. 

     You nodded.

     "Thank you for coming to talk to me and for sharing about how this has been for you. I really appreciate it."    

     She smiled - perhaps genuinely for the first time since you met. It was a lovely smile.

     You sighed as she left. It wasn't much, but it was progress. Maybe she would let you in. Maybe it wouldn't be so hard after all.

     When several hours had passed with no updates on your lab results, you decided to take a walk down the hall to see how your soulmate was faring. You knocked on his door, but received no answer. 

     "Namjoon!" you called softly with another rap of your knuckles, but were still met with silence.

     Just when you were about to turn and go, the door creaked inward on its hinges, slipping open to reveal your soulmate's tired face.

     "I just came to see how you were doing...are you okay?." 

     You followed him as he slumped back into the suite, but before he could even reach his bed he turned and pushed past you to hurry into the bathroom. It caught you a little off-guard and you stumbled, catching yourself on the opposing wall, but quickly realized the reason for his urgency when sounds of retching followed.

     The bathroom door was cracked open and you could see him hunched over the toilet, breathing heavily as his body wracked with each attempt to expel the contents of his stomach. You hesitated a moment, then pushed the door in slowly, coming to kneel beside him and gingerly place a hand on his back.

     He raised his head, eyes fluttering when you touched him. You gently pulled your palm up and down his spine, feeling the warm surge of the bond even through his shirt. He reached for a piece of toilet paper to wipe his mouth.

     "You don't have to do that..." he murmured, resting his forehead on his arm propped on the porcelain rim.

     "I know," you answered quietly, continuing to slowly rub his back. "Can I put my hand under your shirt?"

     "You're not supposed to be touching me until we know what's going on with you." 

     You slipped your other hand out to curl your fingers around his exposed bicep below the sleeve of his tee. He sighed, shoulders sagging as the comfort and warmth of the contact soothed his aching body.

     "Can I?" you softly persisted, and he nodded his head where it laid against his forearm.

     Slipping your hand beneath the baggy cotton you ran your fingers over his soft, taut skin, heart squeezing at the definition of his spine and the ghosts of his ribs. 

     "Did you do chemo without me?" you asked.

     “I've been doing it before you got here, you know,” he retorted weakly.

     "How are you supposed to gain weight if it makes you this sick? Please don't do it again without me."

     "You passed out, Y/n," he shifted his head to look at you.

     "We'll figure that out," you smiled, "But you need to be as agreeable to these treatments as possible, right?" 

     He nodded.

     "Hyung-seo paid me a visit this morning," you remarked after a moment of silence.

     "She told me."

     "Said she leaves for her tour tomorrow. When does she get back?"

     "February."

     "Of next year?" You paused to temper your shock, "That's a long time."

     "It's a world tour. That's how it goes."

     "Wow."

     You realized for the hundredth time in as many hours that there was so much about their lifestyle to which you were ignorant. You had so much to learn, but one thing you did know: he needed you right now, so you stayed by his side until the sickness had subsided.

     Nurse Cha arrived shortly after to conduct routine checks on Namjoon, and you sat by, thumbing through the latest issue of Batman and Robin which Matt had been kind enough to drop off with your things.

     "Your initial blood work came back with some concerns," she said, turning to you and picking up her tablet to access the results. "There are signs that your body's nutrients are being depleted. Since your fainting spells have been occuring during skinship, we ask that you refrain from touching until your CMP comes back."

     Namjoon glanced over at you, a chiding expression on his features. You flatly ignored him.

     "I need to be able to touch him, especially if he feels ill. He needs to keep down his food, right?"

     Nurse Cha hummed, pursing her lips.

     "Well, I'm going to run this by Dr. Na, but if absolutely necessary, keep it light and brief. And please be sure to document even the smallest instances of skinship so that we can track the effects."

     You agreed readily, and she left to continue her rounds. 

Glancing out the window, you noted that the evening was mild, and the gardens were aflutter with birds and awash in soft late-afternoon light. You thought about what the nurse had said before about the fresh air.

     "Hey," you remarked, still looking out the window, "We should take a walk - it looks so nice out. You up for it?" 

     "Great idea," he replied, joining you to look out across the greenery. "I'm definitely feeling up for it." He huffed out a little chuckle.

     "What?" you asked suspiciously. You were beginning to recognize his different laughs - this particular chuckle was always at your expense.

     "Gonna keep pushing it with the poor nurse, huh?"

     You scoffed.

     "Well, if I hadn't would you be feeling well enough to go out right now?"

     "No."

     When you glanced up you found that he was gazing raptly at you, his face filled with unchecked thanksgiving. Your witty response faltered on your tongue. 

     His touch, you were pretty damn sure that for the rest of his natural life you would never grow used to it...but his eyes? It was almost the same. Was this part of the bond? Or was it just...him? Did everyone feel this way when he held them in those eyes? When he looked at them, really looked...

You couldn't tear your eyes away. You couldn't find words.

     When Namjoon's phone suddenly buzzed you thanked almighty Samsung and sagged against the window pane. 

     "Damn," he muttered. 

     You looked at him questioningly.

     "I have a consultation with my radiation oncologist in ten minutes. Go ahead! I'll meet you down there right after."

     He pulled a sweatshirt over his head and changed his slippers out for his shoes.

     You returned to your room to grab outerwear as well. The evening was temperate enough to go without, but you were feeling chillier than usual. You felt your phone buzz in your pocket.

     Mom flashed across the screen.

     Your chest tightened and you silenced the ringer. You'd call her tomorrow, you told yourself. Besides, she had already spoken to Matt. 

     When you reached the garden, you decided there was someone you should call while you waited. Ambling down a gravel path, you held the phone up to your ear, stuffing your other hand into the pocket of your jean jacket.

     "Matt told mom that you passed out - are you okay?" Diana's voice on the other end registered genuine distress.

     You rolled your eyes and sighed. 

     "I'm fine. My body is just adjusting to the bond and probably jet lag and whatnot."

     "You better fucking be fine or I'm coming out there to make sure you are."

     You laughed. 

     "To South Korea? On a Wednesday?"

     "You know what I mean, god! You're so - hey! How did the fiancee thing go?"

     "I knew you'd want an update."

     "Spill."

     You sighed.

     "Uh-oh," she hummed, "That was your, things-are-an-effing-disaster sigh."

     "It was no- why do you keep trying to divine my air flow like they're casting-runes or something? Will you just let me tell you?"

     "You don't always say."

     You huff in exasperation.

     "Okay, well, I won't tell you what that sigh is," she mumbles in trepidation, "But I will tell you that I know enough to shut up and let you continue. Go on."

     "It didn't go swimmingly."

     "Fuck."

     "Yeah,” You lifted your fingers to absently stroke at the petal of a rose. “She seemed very frightened by the whole situation, which is completely understandable. But then...she also kind of came at me. She started asking pretty intimate stuff about the bond right off the bat. When I tried to redirect by suggesting we get to know each other better she started saying all this stuff she already knew about me. About Dad and Mom."

     "What?!" Diana gasped incredulously.

     "It was almost as if...I don't know, I could have been reading her incorrectly, but it was almost seemed as if she was trying to bring things up that might knock me off my footing. Make me...insecure." 

     You suddenly remembered your conversation with Namjoon the previous night. He hadn’t let on that he had already known your father passed when you were a child...but he had known. Passing out during skinship had gotten in the way of the conversation you had intended to broach with him about knowledge of the other. You had done research before meeting him, but only the basics. You had felt that as much should come from him as possible. Clearly you hadn’t been given that opportunity.

     "That bitch," Diana seethed, pulling your mind back into the moment.

     "Hey, hey, hey," you cautioned her, "She's in a extremely difficult situation. And that was just my biased impression of her intentions. Don't be too quick to judge her, Di."

     Diana hummed discontentedly.

     "Also, she came to apologize to me today before she leaves on tour. We made progress, I think."

     "Apologizing? Bare minimum," Diana said with an air of dismissal. "What did you say her name was?"

     "Kim Hyung-seo. Her stage name is Bibi."

     Diana was silent for a moment. 

     "Found her," she declared. 

     You smiled to yourself - of course she had found her, the woman was famous. It wasn't as if stalking measures were necessary (though you had no doubt of Diana's abilities should that have been the case).

Diana clicked her tongue in disappointment.

     "She's hot."

     "She is very pretty," you agreed.

     "Yeah, but you're hot too. And, y'kow, you're you. Bet you're smarter..."

     "Di," you said, stopping to pinch your brow, "We're not in some kind of competition. We're both just human beings navigating pretty uncharted waters, okay? We both have our strengths and weaknesses. She's going to be part of my life as Namjoon's wife, so not only is building a good relationship with her important to me, I have a responsibility to her as well. We all do. To each other."

     Your sister paused on the other end before relenting sullenly.

     "Yeah, yeah. I guess you're right - you do need to make nice with her...as long as they're married, that is..."

     "DIANA."

     "Okay! Geez!" Diana cleared her throat. "How is the soulmate doing?"

     "He's getting stronger every day," you answered, happily moving the topic away from Hyung-seo.

     "That's great!" she crooned. 

     "It is."

     "Are you smiling? You sound like you're smiling."

     "How are you doing, Di? Classes are starting soon."

     You smirked as your sister's attention surged in a new direction, and for the next half an hour she regaled you with tales of her new housemates, and the smarmy and unseemly Johnnie (who had come crawling back, as predicted, upon returning to the States). 

     Upon hanging up with Diana, you checked the time, and discovered that it had been nearly an hour since you left Namjoon. You were starting to feel weak, and a bit cold - hunger, you told yourself - so you decided to return indoors for dinner.

     You called Namjoon on the way up to the fifth floor to inform him if your change in plans. He apologized profusely, saying that the doctor had been detained, and asked you to join him for dinner.

Letting yourself into his suite, you shrugged your jacket off as you headed for your usual spot on the couch when, suddenly, you froze.

    A man was rising to stand from where he had been seated on the sofa. He was clad in a dark blue button-down with a golden emblem on the shoulder and black slacks. He wore a black cap which bore a similar insignia to the one on his shirt and fit snugly over his short dark hair. He wasn’t as tall as Namjoon, though his shoulders were nearly as wide. His features were soft but arresting, and his deep brown irises, you thought, seemed to hold a bit of everything a pair of eyes could. Your comic book was in his hand.

You crossed the room toward him.

     "Hi, I’m sorry, Namjoon will be here soon - oh, I'm his soulmate, Y/n," you stammered, before catching yourself.

     The young man's sharp eyes widened, his lips parting as you bowed.

     "Je ireum-eun Y/n imnida," you started over in Korean.

     He bowed in return, raising his dark brown eyes to you again as he responded in a soft deep voice.

     "Annyeonghaseyo, je ireum-eun Min Yoongi imnida."

[hachibani]

i'd never seen a dog tear up

I don't think i ever wrote about it here but Bianca died on march 5th of 2021, she got diagnosed cancer in 2020 just before lockdown and major pandemic events and unfortunately every treatment I could get her in such times were not enough or too late and the moment her metastasis became unresponsive to pain medicine i decided to let her go

i know i didn't talk about her a lot here since twitter became my main site of activity for years but i remember when she had her accident back in 2016 i posted about her here too, i got a lot of support and commissions to pay for her treatment and thankfully i got support as well when i opened comms there to pay for her chemo and surgeries, and for that i will always be thankful. I don't know why but I kind of had thought if I ever post about Bianca again here in this little old blog it'd be about her beating her cancer, something happy

i really regret the fact i didn't post more about her when she was alive and once she died my depression got so bad i was either unavailable or tried to ignore the pain by focusing on personal work... to this day it still hurts to think of everything that i could or should have done even if there's no way i cannot go back in time

losing bianca after almost 13 years of being together and more than half of my life at the time with her was more traumatic than i'd like to admit, so i try to rationalize little things like not being able to replace her picture even after so long, the most i've done is sell her stroller and i still kind of regret that haha;; but neither of her brothers fit in and at some point it became too much of a reminder of her illness and last days it felt like i had to, but just that one

(even thinking she was part of my life for 1/2+ of it and that that fraction will become smaller as time passes feels so wrong it might make me cry again)

i didn't get to draw her as much as i wished either, i thought i could never capture her cuteness (i still struggle) but since i drew her again on her first death anniversary i thought "i could somewhat get her to look cute" and i try to draw her looking like this from then on https://twitter.com/hachibani/status/1500315555215126536

because of her i started drawing pets more often, my goal for this year was to draw her at least once a month but... i didn't draw her at all in february, i think i'd like to make up and draw her again this month if my free time allows it, i never thought i'd get to complete a comic (albeit short) about these feelings i've had, i have still, i don't know for how long i'll have

doing personal art like this has never been easy but i somehow feel less heavy now, maybe it's bc of the wall of text i'm leaving haha

[ravennaortiz]

37, 31, 35, 1, 17, 13 with Happy (shocking, I know! 😋)

Angst with a happy ending. He cheats, doubles down, but eventually realizes he's a complete idiot and goes to grovel.

Make it hurt before you make it better!

You want a Happy story?!??! ( LOL) .Mam! The way you have me clutching my pearls with this one! Though my brain has the perfect idea for this! I left it a bit open for interpretation at the end. As always 18+.

Prompts

37. who was that?

31. Jealous?

35. Don't touch me

You hate me

17. I love you

13. I promise

Stepping out

"Thanks again for picking me up Tig" you stated as you followed him into the clubhouse. "Not a prob-" started Tig before he caught sight of Happy making out with a blonde on of the couches. Stopping short he tried to usher you back out the door but it was too late. Your eyes had already clocked your husband. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you watched him stand up and carry her back to the dorms. No doubt in your mind what his next move was going to be.

"I'm so sorry" murmured Tig as he moved nervously from foot to foot desperately wishing Chibs or someone else was here. "No need to apologize. You're not the one cheating on your healing wife" you replied as you blinked back the hot tears. You refused to be further humiliated today. "Let him know I'm waiting outside" you stated as you carefully walked outside to sit at one of the picnic tables.

Too think that he could so easily throw away ten years of love and memories was unimaginable to you. The tears poured hot and fast as you waited for him. You had stayed loyal for every lockup, run and hospitalization. The thought of stepping outside the vows you had written each other never crossed your mind. You had always thought of him as the stronger one of you two. Obviously you were wrong since he couldn't even handle your going through a hysterectomy and chemo without going to get his dick wet in someone else's pussy.

You had shouldered the diagnosis alone for the most part. Happy had gotten distant right around the time the doctors said your chances were slim for survival and if they did manage to get it all irradiated you would never bear your own children. That had ripped through you worst than the cancer diagnosis. The two of you had been so close to a little bundle of joy four times. Each time ripped away due to club bullshit.

By the time Happy was standing in front of you anger had completely taken over. "Who was that?" you snapped as you watched the woman tear out of the clubhouse and to her car. "Why? Jealous she knows how to please a man?" replied Happy as he crossed his arms and stared you down. Your harsh laugh shocked you both before the sound of your hand across his face echoed in both your ears. Without another word you stormed off.

Happy stood watching you go. His cheek stung as did his heart. "Docs told her she was all clear. All she talked about on the drive from Lodi was how excited she was to tell you" stated Tig from the clubhouse door as he lit a cigarette. "You know your an idiot right?" questioned Tig as Happy pushed past him back into the clubhouse.

Four days later

"I told you to get your shit and leave" you snapped as Happy stepped into the house bypassing his belongings on the porch. "I just want to talk" stated Happy as he stood in front of you his eyes full of sadness. "Literally nothing to talk about Hap. I'm done. I wont sit here like Gemma, Donna and Tara and be made a full of by a scumbag man" you stated your eyes ablaze with an anger he had seldom seen in the years you two had been together.

"Please" pleaded Happy as he reached out to you. "Don't touch me!" you screamed as you knocked his hand away. "You don't deserve that privilege anymore." you continued as you balled your fist at your side. Happy shrank back some before tuning his eyes down to the floor. "You hate me. I understand" he whispered as tears pooled in his eyes. He had not only lost the battle but the war as well. "No. I love you still and that is so much worse than hating you." you replied your own voice cracking with emotion.

Neither of you spoke for several minutes. Happy finally nodded and got on his knees in front of you. "I promise it will never happen again. I also promise you that was the first time it has even happened. I was scared of losing you." pleaded Happy as he looked up at you with tears streaming down his face. "I think its best that you lose me for awhile Happy" you stated as you stepped around him and exited the house.

Want more Happy? Click here

Want to see how to make your own request? Click here

[allbark-no-bite]

i would’ve married you.

icemav x reader (wc. 2.4k)

summary: It had always been Maverick. It had been Maverick long before you met Ice and would continue to be Maverick until he took his last breath.

warnings: severe angst, mentions of cancer, vomiting, character death

authors note: for all of my followers, i know this isn’t something that i would usually post but i’m immensely proud of it. this is for all of my Icemav Topgun people out there

————————————————————————

You watch as he cinches his belt one, two, five times. But you didn't have to watch him dress to know how much weight he had lost. The gauntness of his cheekbones could have told you that. He could have told you that. But he doesn't. And neither of you talk about it.

He just trudges tiredly out of the bedroom, running a hand through his frosty hair as he passes through the door frame. It seemed as though out of all the loss you had expected to come along with chemo, both the tumor and his hair were insistent upon staying.

Tom had the kind of hair that one would expect a man aging into his thirties to have: still relatively thick, however dulling in color, and ever threatening to see it's final days. Except it had looked like this for the past ten years. So had you expected the chemo to finally push the bleach damaged strands over the edge? Yes. Were you surprised when it didn't? No.

Along with his steel cut jawline and the soft roundness that his high cheekbones had given his face, it worked for him. He seemed to be perpetually never aging, stuck between a spry young cadet and weathered admiral.

"Where are you going? You have an appointment today." You watch, unamused and arms crossed as he moves through the house, gathering his things.

"No, I have to go into the office today. I'm already behind on too much paperwork," he corrects, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Tom has never been a coffee person, but these days he's totaling a minimum of two cups a day. That's not counting whatever he has while at work. It splashes onto the counter in his haste, but either he's moving too fluidly to notice or just doesn't care.

Normally his carelessness would have ticked you off, and you'd tell him off for the mess, tired of having to mother a grown man in his own home, but you're trying. Trying to be more gentle—be more patient. There is this tremendously guilty feeling that occurs when you yell at someone with cancer. Cancer. You hardly ever even say the word aloud.

It had started out as a persistent ear ache. Something he had chalked up to years of flying. He took antibiotics and that seemed to take care of the pain for a while. Then came the difficulty swallowing, followed by swollen lymph nodes, and finally the cough. It was the cough that he couldn't manage to shake.

"You can't keep missing treatments," you say, even though he knows. Sometimes you think it's worse that he's well versed about his condition. The first few weeks after finding out, he would come home, shower, and spend hours reading books that detailed symptoms and various treatments. Those hours bled into long anxious nights where the bedside lamp never turned off and neither of yourselves slept.

He knows what every symptom means; when it's good, when it's really bad.

Ice is already almost out the door, tugging on a coat that he snatched from god knows where, his combat boots shoved on haphazardly on his feet. His blonde hair is mushed from sleep, cowlicked on one side and only serving to add to his disheveled state. It's longer now, longer than it has been in a while. He'd always kept his hair cropped short in the time that you had known him, but now it was just long enough to stick out over his ears and brush the back of his neck.

"I agreed to do this shit as long as it didn't interfere with anything. It worked for a while but now I'm done. You knew the agreement."

The agreement. The agreement that you and Ice had settled on nearly ten months prior, back when he was just starting chemo—what seemed like a lifetime ago.

He hadn't wanted to undergo treatment. Hadn't wanted to endure the debilitating side effects that would come as a result. The doctors had given him a couple more years if he chose to do nothing. They'd make him 'comfortable' as they called it, and he could carry on with his duties until he couldn't. It was a guaranteed death sentence.

The chemo gave him a chance. You'd begged him to at least try. It was worth a try. Eventually he had given in under the condition that he would do the treatments until they started affecting his job. Your hope was that the chemo would stave off the disease long enough to buy him more time until then. At ten months, the tumor had shrunk in size, but Tom was feeling the effects of the radiation. He was nauseous more often than not and it was rare that he kept anything down. His joints stiffened and along with that came constant fatigue. The mouth sores were probably the worst development.

"That's not fair. You feel like crap because it's working," you argue, but it's like talking to a brick wall. He's not listening, tuning you out as he grabs his keys. He's been looking for an excuse to quit and it seemed as though he'd finally hit his breaking point. "If you skip again, everything so far will have been for nothing. You'll be right back where you started—"

His hand sliding off the doorknob, Ice turns to face you. He releases an exasperated sigh, fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. The crease between his brows seems to have become permanent these days. "The stupid appointment will be here when I get back. You will be here when I get back. My career, this opportunity, will not."

"You don't mean that," you whisper, fighting the tightening of your throat, but you don't even believe yourself when you say it.

For a fraction of a second, he at least has the decency to look guilty. Ice pauses in the doorway, his mouth opening then closing as he decides against whatever he was going to say.

"Tom...," you begin to please with him, your voice cracking, but the front door had already slammed shut.

A text comes from Slider later that day.

You need to come get him.

Had you received such a text twelve months ago, you would have assumed that Tom was being an intolerable ass and that the team was at their wits' end with him. These days he hardly even has enough energy to walk from his desk to the door, let alone raise any sort of hell like he used to.

It seems foolish to miss that kind of thing, but you do. You all miss the normalcy of it.

When you make it to the base, it is buzzing with life. The tarmac is lined with rows of aircraft and men, both returning and awaiting takeoff. Given today was the first day for new recruits, it wasn't unusual for things to be so chaotic. You find Viper behind his desk as usual, phone pressed to his ear. Upon spotting you, he covers the receiver and mouths 'bathroom'.

You find him in the one behind the showers in the locker room. He's braced over the sink, heaving. Maverick is there. Maverick is always there.

The brunette pilot is standing beside Ice, a hand on his back to steady him as he retches. Maverick's leant over, murmuring something into his ear, only taking note of you standing in the doorway as he straightens. He nods in greeting to you just slightly, a grim look in his green eyes.

You'd long ago become accustomed to the idea that Ice was not purely yours. The navy owned him first and foremost. That was sworn in oath and inarguable. But anything after that became a little less clear. There was Maverick, and then there was you.

But you knew that.

When you had first met Ice on a night out at the bar, you were completely and hopelessly swooned by his charm, convinced that you'd just met the love of your life. And then you met Maverick and realized that was never going to be true.

It had always been Maverick. It had been Maverick long before you met Ice and would continue to be Maverick until he took his last breath.

Knowing first hand that Tom doesn't like being crowded when he's like this, you wait until he straightens before making your presence known behind him. He doesn't even flinch at the feel of your hand on his back, and you take that as a bad sign. Usually he'd bristle defensively, snap at you that he could handle it on his own. You know his anger comes from a place of fear—fear of being vulnerable, fear of dying.

His face is pale and tired looking, even more so than usual. You press the back of your palm to his forehead but find that he's not unusually warm, which is good. His flushed cheeks and watery eyes must be from gagging.

Maverick now stands a few paces away, hands clasped together behind his back. He's always kept his distance when you were around, held back by not only his respect for you but the laws of the navy. One wrong move at the wrong place at the wrong time would have himself and Ice dishonorably discharged. Their careers would amount to nothing.

If it hadn’t been for DADT, you don’t think Tom would have chosen you. Had the government allowed it, he would have put an engagement ring on Pete’s finger instead of yours. You probably wouldn’t even be a part of his life. And you carry around a lot of guilt because of that. It’s been one of the most selfish things you’ve ever done, agreeing to marry Tom. But at the same time there’s a part of you that doesn’t feel guilty at all because at least that it meant you got to spend your life with him.

Tom was the love of your life, but you weren’t his. Tom loved you, he genuinely did, but he wasn’t in love with you. That was reserved for Maverick.

Tom sucks in a ragged breath, one that hurts your own chest, and a fit of coughing follows it You’re afraid you’re going to hear that cough and it’s painful sharpness for years to come, but what you’re even more afraid of is the day you don’t. You swallow the knot in your throat and pet a hand through Tom’s hair, tenderly brushing it away from his eyes.

The reality of the situation is beginning to hit you, and there’s little you can do to keep the tears from your eyes. Once he stops chemo, there’s no telling how much more time he has left. It could be a couple weeks or it could be years, but regardless, he’s done fighting.

“Pete,” you begin, your throat tight. The brunette pilot’s eyes shoot towards you, his eyes reflecting a look of surprise.

In all of the years that you had known him, he has always been Maverick to you, maybe even Mav on the rare occasion, but never Pete. That had been your way of distancing yourself from him, the man who your fiancé so fondly referred to as his wingman. It was hard to look at Maverick as a friend and at the same time, your fiancé’s lover.

“Pete, take him home, would you?” You ask, finally able to get your words out again.

Maybe he’s not sure if he’s hearing you correctly or he’s just genuinely confused, but Maverick tilts his head, his green eyes lit with confusion. “I don’t—”

Tom’s eyebrows furrow, mimicking an expression similar to his wingman’s when you slip off the engagement ring on your finger and enclose it in his palm. “(Y/n), what are you doing?”

With your heart in your throat, you engulf Tom in a hug. From a combination of him not expecting it and his considerably lighter frame, he has to shuffle a few steps back to accommodate for your sudden weight. Once recovered, his arms tighten around you. The weight of his embrace is overwhelmingly familiar, and it doesn’t hit you until now how much you’re going to miss it. You snuggle your face into the crook of his neck and breathe him in like how you used to when you first started dating.

You hear him struggling to swallow, but eventually he finds his voice. “I would have married you,” he says, his voice sounding full of regret. What he means is, even if it wasn’t exactly what he wanted, even though he wished things could have been different, he would have still walked down the isle and said ‘I love you’ and meant it. He would have loved you regardless.

Tears streaming down your cheeks, you pull away just enough to see his face. “I know, Tom. I know you would’ve.”

And as much as it breaks you to release him, you step away from him for one final goodbye. Turning towards the man standing a few feet away, you open your arms for him, crushing Maverick in an embrace. “Take care of him, okay?” you manage, your words muffled by the leather of his bomber jacket.

“Of course ,” he promises.

“I know you will. You always have.”

——

Six months later, you get a phone call from Maverick. Tom had passed in his sleep last night. The call was brief, Maverick could barley get his words out, but he just wanted to let you know before the navy contacted you. They do around noon that day and you help make arrangements for the funeral.

With Tom being an admiral, they make it into a whole production, something he would have hated but secretly been proud of. It a very emotional day, hearing the fighter jets fly by and seeing all of yours and Tom’s friends.

You intend to slip in and out, but as you’re leaving, Maverick catches your eye in all of the chaos. It’s good to see him. He looks to be holding up okay despite the situation. There’s a gold band on his ring finger that wasn’t there before. The sight tugs at your heart a bit because you want to know how long they got to be married, if they went to the courthouse or if they had a ceremony on the beach like Tom had always wanted.

That’s the thing about love.

Even if it wasn’t you and Tom in the end, you still loved him, probably always will love him.

And that was fine.

All the love you had to give was his to keep anyways.

[catboygretzky]

being a single dad is all fun and games until it's mother's day and people are saying happy mother's day to a fucking mother that hasn't done jack shit to raise her child

like no, i am NOT his mom but fuck everything if she's been a damn mom to him. i'm out here being his mom AND dad and she thinks she has any right to call herself his MOTHER? to pat herself on the back for being a MOM?

FUCK YOU, you call him once a week (if that)(usually twice a month) for maybe 30 minutes at most. you give me less than £200 a month for child support and have no fucking idea what goes on with him outside of that. you don't go to his chemo or his therapy or calm him down after meltdowns or learn barely visible cues to stop him from getting upset or wake up at 3 am because he's being sick all over his room. you don't know any of his friends names or his favourite class or attend parent/teacher meetings or volunteer for field trips.

i taught this kid how to fucking read and how to write his name and what has she done? NOTHING. fucking NOTHING.

she carried him for 9 months and then gave birth to him, but she is not his fucking mom

[brostateexam]

Let's talk about stage 3 colon cancer.

That's what my BiL has. He's been feeling kinda bleugh for the last few months -- diarrhea, cramping, bloating. He had an abdominal CT that showed a kind of mass in his upper GI tract, so they did a colonoscopy to see what was going on in there.

The results were not awful but not great.

On the plus side, the cancer hasn't spread to other organs (ie not Stage 4) which is super important when you have any cancer in your abdomen because there's a lot of organs nearby. They removed the tumor on Tuesday and as of today he's already walking around and recovering at home, albeit in a greatly diminished sense compared to someone who didn't just have laparoscopic surgery on their abdomen. As someone who has had that: your core strength is just gone after that happens, and that's quite disconcerting. Also, they put the IV in his hand and it sounds like he's having a non-dangerous but painful complication where his hand hurts a lot and gripping stuff is agonizing.

As for the bad stuff, beyond the fact that it's cancer so it's inherently not rainbows and ice cream sundaes, it was a really, really big tumor, and the surgeon said he'll likely need chemo afterward, too, so the recovery process is gonna be months, and it's really going to suck.

My personal feelings on all of this are honestly complicated by the fact that I do not care for my BiL at all. He's a bad husband to my sister and a terrible father to my niece and nephew. He is constantly whining about what a terrible life he has -- and prior to this cancer diagnosis, he really didn't have much to whine about. He lives a middle-class suburban existence in a nice house with two cars and two kids. He has enough money to buy himself a new guitar to noodle around with every six months or some other toy like that, he works from home, his wife is the primary breadwinner at this point and also the primary caretaker of their kids, housecleaner, and cook.

And still, constant negativity, dissatisfaction, and whining.

I'm about 95% sure that they're heading for divorce. My sister has said that she's not going to try to leave him until after he's done chemo and the addition in the house is complete, whichever happens last, but I think in a few years time he won't be an aggrieved hovering presence during the holidays and frankly that would be lovely. Watching him yell at the kids makes me want to throttle him, and when I'm around I know he's behaving better than he would otherwise so I can only imagine what happens normally.

Anyway, I do hope he gets better. I don't want him dead. I just kind of want him gone.