#tw cancer reference

[op3ra]

cattes

[elv-arts]

Been super tired this chemo cycle but i drew a little bit today :)

[ID: Image 1 - A fineliner drawing of two moth people chilling on some mushrooms, drawn on a sketchbook page bordered with mushroom washi tape and bug washi tape. They both have four arms and two legs. The first moth is sitting on a small mushroom. They have curly fluff around their head and are wearing a cozy hoodie, cuffed jeans and combat boots. They are looking down at the second moth lounging under a bigger mushroom who is looking back up at them. They have messy fluff around their head and are wearing an oversized shirt over a t shirt, with ripped jeans and basketball shoes. They're holding a blade of grass in one hand.

Image 2 - a sketchbook page of fineliner drawings of hands in different poses. End ID]

They are not perfect but I like them and they're about the only thing I've done since monday other than sleep and watch youtube lol

Oh btw the mushroom washi tape is from Geeniejay on etsy, and the bug one is from DirtPigeon on etsy :)

[luxurybrownbarbie]

It's crazy how obsessive people can get with the whole idea of virginity. Especially when the hymen can break from so many different things? Working out, using tampons, and so much more. In fact, I grew up in a very religious christian household and I wasn't allowed to go horseback riding because the women thought it was inappropriate for a women to do so.... because of the chance it could break the hymen. Also, they thought the movement on a horse was inappropriate for a women but not for a man.

I have a horrible reaction to anything purity culture.

It’s crazy. It can literally be anything, you’d have to never make a sudden move in your life to “preserve” it. It’s just silly.

I completely understand your reaction to purity culture. I’ve moved on from pure rage to simple open derision when I’m met with it now, but it still makes me sick.

The thing with virginity is, it’s not even real! We made it up! And the constant fear mongering and pressure (of both decisions!) is so silly. I even hate the language used. You don’t “lose” anything. It’s more of a debut than anything else. But even then, it’s built up to be this life changing moment, and all that does is heighten the anxiety and stress surrounding it.

This is why I feel it’s important to not be overly emotive either way when discussing it. Removing the expectations either way is more beneficial overall, in my opinion.

You are no different after your first consensual sexual encounter than you were before it. The world does not change. You do not change. All that matters is that you did it with protection, with someone who made you feel safe and comfortable. (Oh and, you should now start getting smear tests if you didn’t already!) But other than that, you’re still the same old you. 💛

[mrtechnodads-updates-deactived]

crying.

cnn reference

x

take care, lots of love, Merry Christmas 💛💛💛

[aroaceacacia]

every time I see someone in a comments section or in a post remind the reader that techno didnt lose to cancer, he fought it to a draw, it makes me really honestly happy - not because I need the reminder, but to know that my precious oomfie my bestie my little pogchamp is the one who pulled out that reference re: techno, and that he helped bring so many thousands of people some comfort. (for clarity yeah he did just echo a quote from norm macdonald, who also fought cancer to a draw, but i really think the venn diagram of people who are invested in the histories & lives of 61 year old standup comedians and people who are invested in the histories & lives of 21 year old minecraft youtubers is one Single guy.) its not a great big accomplishment or anything, I think he just said the right thing at the right time, but I find it so humbling to be able to see the way his words have echoed out further and further. idk.

[thatweirdguyinthebushes]

THE LIGHT AS METAPHOR FOR THE DAY THAT HE LEAVES YOU

THE LIGHT WILL START IN MORNING, AND WHEN IT STOPS YOU WILL DIE

You know before you leave that your life is in his hands,

and going with him means only one thing.

You know before you leave that if you stay

he will take your place on the altar.

You have a decision to make,

and the glow of morning floods the room, and your teeth are rotting black.

They fall out of your mouth

and land on the floor

one, two, three

with little bits of gum still hanging

from the bottom.

YOU ASK ABRAHAM, TEETH IN HAND, “WILL IT BE WORTH IT? DOES GOD WANT ANYTHING FROM ME?”

You go with him, of course, in the end,

up the mountain, down the valley,

you will follow wherever he goes.

The light streams from between the tree leaves

and runs it’s fingers through your hair.

There is something rotting away in your gut.

God cannot help you now.

Your ten thousandth step is the top of the mountain

and he keeps his hand on the back of your neck, like a threat,

like a promise.

God will provide, he whispers. God will provide.

GOD WILL PROVIDE, HE WHISPERS. GOD WILL PROVIDE.

You grab your teeth from the floor,

drop them in your palm,

count them one by one.

There are five teeth in your hand

each with remnants of you hanging from the root.

You can get rid of many things but not this.

There is something rotten inside you,

and if God cannot take it out,

you wonder why he would want you in the first place.

ALLEGORY FOR SACRIFICE GOES MANY WAYS, BUT NEVER FORWARD

“God will provide,” Abraham tells you.

Or maybe he is not Abraham,

not your father, at all.

Maybe he is Cain,

your brother,

maybe he is Judas, your friend,

who will kiss your cheek and watch the nails sink into your palms

for thirty pieces of silver.

But what does it matter to you?

STONES IN YOUR STOMACH AS METAPHOR FOR GOD LEAVING

“God will provide,” he says.

“God has not left.”

You do not know if he is wrong or if he is lying,

but you know it is one of the two.

You know God has forsaken you,

because you are dying

and because when he tells you that God will provide,

you know you are the provision.

There are stones in your stomach,

there are teeth in the stones,

the mould has grown fuzzy and green on top of them

and when it crawls out of your throat,

there will be only one witness.

We have only ever wanted his blessing.

We have only ever wanted to live.

The stones are stigmata —

just because they will kill you

doesn’t mean they’re not Holy.

GOD IN YOUR STOMACH AS METAPHOR FOR A SINKING FEELING, LIKE THAT WHICH COMES AFTER EATING ROTTEN FOOD, OR KNOWING YOU HAVE MADE THE WRONG CHOICE.

[rorynne]

thank you for all the cats on the dash, it’s really nice ( sorry about typos, im actively crying) /gen

Its all good, I had to step away because all of the techno posts, while very heart felt and importnat, was negatively impacting my mental health, so i figured others needed a bit of distraction as well. I'm probably going to be spaming cute animals until post limit for the night <3

[gentleoverdrive]

(148/?) When the winter comes, keep the fires lit, and I will be right next to you.

TW: This concerns the tragic passing of a beloved actor. If that sorta thing doesn't jive with you, feel free to skip this entry. It's understandable.

---- Saw the news earlier today that voice actor Billy Kametz lost his battle against cancer and it fucking gutted me. Beyond enjoying his fantastic delivery in many projects, the impression I had from every friend/associate/acquaintance that got to work with him and told me about him is that dude was an pleasure to work + get along with. ---- And, like, people need to understand: Those people? You cherish those mo'fos in any work environment. Anybody who can bring that twinkle into your eye + make you bring your A game? Those are the sort of people you associate with, that you check up on and that you try to make sure are around to help you out. ---- Even if this all sounds really cold and detached, losing a good dude just like that doesn't fucking jive with anyone. I mean, 35-- Thirty-Five years of age. That's fucking young. That don't make no sense. But then I remember: It's chaos, be kind. Cherish those you have and are grateful for while they're still in this plane of existence. Life is short like that. ---- Vaya con dios, Billy. Cuídese mucho por favor.

[episodeoftv]

Round 4 of 8

propaganda and summaries are under the cut (May include spoilers)

BoJack Horseman: 6.15 The View From Halfway Down

tw References to Suicide, General Death, and there's some references to cancer/dementia also, but they're very small.

BoJack reconnects with faces from his past.

Listen... Bojack has a lot of THAT EPISODE episodes, but this one just takes the cake. It's the penultimate episode of the show, in which the main character (SPOILERS) attends a dinner party inside his own mind with every character who has died over the course of the show. They all have deeply philisophical discussions about what it means to live a selfless, morale life, the value of sacrifice, the role of religion in personal fulfillment. Every background detail is packed with so much symbolism, the shape of a chair, the bridge the characters take a smoke break on. It's got an amazing dream-like quality, every small detail like a wire phone stretching too far, things getting misplaced, characters get older and no one comments on it, ect. But this is also the episode that just RIPS into Bojack as a character (which the show is already pretty famous for) but he's forced to face EVERY mistake, and watch all the people he's lost fade into the darkness (all in ways that mirror how they actually died) while trying to confront his own mortality, and coming to the realisation that - he's dying. He's drowning in the pool and this is all happening inside his own head. Everything everyone tells him, the ways they're acting in this episode, that's not who they actually are, those nice things aren't things they'd actually say, it's just what he WANTS them to be like. And at the end he has to stop running from the darkness that's already taken everyone around him, and just let it take him. Stop fighting, just let go. And then, rather than the usual end credits song, we just hear a flatline that runs throughout the credits. It fucks you up so bad.

takes place entirely in the main character's mind while he's on the brink of death, genuinely terrifying especially considering the rest of the show is a dramedy, some of the greatest voice acting work I've ever heard, the titular poem performed in the episode is incredibly haunting

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_View_from_Halfway_Down

Over the Garden Wall: Chapter 10: The Unknown

The Beast has come. The final chapter begins.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Unknown_(Over_the_Garden_Wall)

[fearofahumanplanet]

Sensitivity Reader Needed

Hello! I'm writing a very down-to-earth, near future cyberpunk short story for a contest called "North American Scum", centered on the viewpoint of a homeless Korean-American woman in Skid Row, Los Angeles who gets the ability to regenerate limbs from a shady lab trial... and naturally starts selling them out of the desperation that arises from being poor and homeless in America. Lots of commentary on the cyclic nature of being poor, the selling of oneself and their body and soul in order to survive in a capitalistic society, and how the perception of what actions are "justifiable" varies based on one's lived circumstances.

It's based on some real-life occurrences in my life (no limb selling - I like writing the absurd - but I was homeless in Skid Row myself for a time and that and much of my viewpoint irl is based on that experience), but I'm white, so if you are or know a Korean-American woman willing to read it over and give me any feedback/suggestions that comes to mind, I'd really appreciate it!

It is about 5.5k words total and I have just finished the second draft. TW for references to offscreen gore/dismemberment, racist/misogynistic viewpoints, police brutality, and cancer. Lots of depictions of the homeless experience onscreen and upfront as well.

I am broke as fuck and cannot offer any money, but I will happily repay the favor down the line and edit/beta read/whatever you like for your own projects in the future <3

My deadline is in June, so I'd appreciate it if anyone else that sees this passes it around/reblogs. Thanks so much!

[drownedbycoffee]

Spoilers for Tmagp3 and Tmag65

I think I've found some sort of foreshadowing for Tmagp?

(TW for mentions of cancer, unreality, transhumanism, self-harm, mutilation, body horror, eating nonfood items, existential horror, death, mouth harm)

I don't know if anyone else is talking about this but you know when Sam says in Tmagp3 "Better than being force-fed my own keyboard by Colin."? (Referring to when Alice is trying to get him to call IT support and Sam is refusing and she says how he's made a powerful enemy tonight). Yeah, well, it just reminded me of MAG65 Binary. And now that I'm skimming the transcript, there are quiet a few similarities and parallels.

The first thing that really sticks out to me is when Sergey Ushanka uploads his brain to his computer. And I'm not saying that Martin, Jon and Jonah uploaded their brains to Windows 95 as a way of escaping dying from cancer, but the whole 'being uploaded online and turning into a sort of impossible or confusing code' just seems way too similar to be coincidence, especially considering it's Jonny who's writing this.

Also when Tessa in Mag65 is giving Jon her statement, she describes how people online often use Sergey's story as "a running prank for people who like to code text parsers and chatbots." She then goes on to explain the mechanics of it: "You create a program which appears to be a chat window with a stranger who identifies themselves as Sergey. The responses should be as naturalistic as possible to begin with, and in the best ones it’s hard to tell if you’re talking to a bot for the first minute or two. But then the responses start to break down, become more sinister, and keep referring to how much pain Sergey is in. Eventually, the only response the bot gives you is screaming and pleas to be released. The idea is that the chat bot is Sergey Ushanka’s mind, and he doesn’t like being in a computer nearly as much as he’d hoped. If it’s well-executed, it can be genuinely quite unsettling." Remind you of anything? Yeah, the whole thing where Chester, Norris and Augustus become more human as they continue to read out the 'statements' - I know it not exactly the same, but I think the method and logic behind is way too similar to be ignored or written off.

I think this also links to the theory that some parts of Jon and Martin, or at least a version of them, are trapped in the Web. Specifically to the theory that they are choosing what statements to read out as a way of trying to communicate with the world. Norris reads out in Tmagp2: "I said the only thing I could think:

“Arthur? Is that you?”

And that voice I have loved for twenty years answered:

“Some of him.”" Really links to the idea that maybe Jon's and Martin's brain have retained a level of conscience and is really similar to the whole thing of Sergey's mind trying to communicate online.

Also when Tessa's screen turns into the Video file in Tmag65 and there is that grainy image of a "balding man. He appeared to be in his late 30s, I thought, and was shirtless, with a face frozen in pain or distress. [...] He reached down, to what I assumed would have been the keyboard, but he didn’t seem to be typing. Instead, there was a sudden jerking motion, and he raised his hand to reveal one of the keys, that he had apparently torn off. He brought it to his mouth, and began to eat it. I could just about make out the snap of his jaw, as the hard plastic shattered between his teeth. And as he reached for the next one, I could see a trickle of blood from his lips." - which links to where Sam says about being force-fed his own keyboard.

I don't know this could all be nothing, but I just thought it was kind of an odd thing to say in a conversation and sort of niche and it just reminded me of that episode. Maybe it's a way of Jonny trying to tell us more about Jon and Martin's situation?? I don't know haha

[occasionalincorrectquotes]

Cells at work manga masterlist

(Fun Fact did you know: Cells at Work has a 2nd season, and although there will be no more new episodes, spinoffs are constantly releasing, so you can still enjoy fresh new cell content even now!)

✓: Completed

*: ongoing

X: not officially translated as of November 2022

Cells at Work (the original) ✓

Cells at Work: Code Black ✓

Platelets at Work ✓

Cells at Work and Friends ✓

Cells at work Baby ✓

Bacteria at Work ✓

Cells Not at Work ✓

Cells at Work Lady ✓ X

White Blood Cells at Work / Cells at Work White Brigade ✓

Cells at Work Illegal * X

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Don't know what to read/start with? Recommendations and trigger warnings under the cut!

Cells at Work (The original manga): A nice series that teaches you the basics of cells, mostly immune cells but they do include some gut immunity in the 2nd season, filled with a nice balance of angst and fluff, includes a prominent ship although it isn't the main point of the series and they don't actually say out loud if they like each other romantically or anything.

TWs: Includes a lot of blood, slicing of knives/violence in general, cancer (anthropomorphized, but they do say the word a lot of course), violently biting things until they gush out blood/whatever they're made from

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cells at Work: Code Black: An angsty series, a lot of sadness in general, although it looks like a gender swap of the original, the contents are also very opposite to the original. This series takes place in a different host body. Not fluffy, bad work environments, cells suffering in general. If you love seeing little fictional people suffering or want a reason to take better care of your body, this is the series for you!

TWs: Blood, violence, actual bazookas/guns, nsfw topics like unsafe sex and others, major and minor character deaths, drug mention both beneficial and unbeneficial, attempted suicide, ACTUAL suicide, depression, cancer

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Platelets at Work: A very nice and fluffy series about the children of Cells at Work, takes place in the body of the original CaW manga, features the platelet team we all love and their master Megakaryocyte. It's a very nice slice of life series that talks about the platelets doing their best and being children, very cute 10/10.

TWs: Tbh, I'm not sure, maybe i can reread it and see, but i don't think there's anything worth a warning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cells at Work and Friends: My personal favorite, features a Killer T cell with social anxiety as it's protagonist. A great slice of life that doesn't have much about education of biology. A lot of misunderstandings, a lot of funny and relatable moments, I'm sure all of us can relate to at least 1 of the chapters.

TWs: Blood, slicing and dicing and violence, eating and dead bacteria/viruses that would usually be very gorey are censored, depression and suicide mention (from one specific character, you can avoid him if you like and still enjoy the series), sewing needles on specific chapters, mention of nsfw

Reply if you'd want me to reference which chapters have the trigger so you can avoid it while still enjoying most of it

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cells at Work Baby: Much like the original, featuring 2 red blood cells as the main character instead of a white blood cell, just as educational as the original and all the characters are in a cute chibi style.

TWs: Blood, slicing, a little violence but it isn't as bad as the original, character death

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bacteria At Work: I have yet to read this fully, but i have read the first chapter, full of pretty men and talks about gut bacteria and dietary stuff.

TWs: Unknown (to me)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cells NOT At Work: More of a slice of life compared to the original, it is quite educational on the development of red blood cells. Real LGBT rep, a wide range of characters and dynamics, made me very emotional, though i haven't read the last volume.

TWs: Mention of death/character death, and maybe slicing and killing in the last volume

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cells At Work Lady: Because this manga has yet to be translated officially, i have yet to read it, but it talks about the anatomy of women, from periods to pregnancy, there is quite a lot. They also include pretty men!

TWs: NSFW mention, slicing and dicing of various things, potentially more that i am unaware of.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cells At Work Illegal: Lastest CaW manga spinoff to be released as of writing, the name speaks for itself. Usage of drugs, smoking, drinking, and potentially many more. It is untranslated, so I cannot truly understand what it is about, but thats the gist of it. Also the main characters might be potentially a little gay

TWs: Drug usage, a lot of slicing and dicing and blood, NSFW (not just mention I'm pretty sure)

[piffany666]

Ok just one more punk progeny won't hurt~

Chapter 5: the agreement

Ftm trans Bright eyes

Tank uses they/she pronouns. Primarily 'they' but for the purpose of this fic they are occasionally referred to as the "cool step mum"

TW: smoking

Out of all the people Bright had met since turning, Tanker was the one he trusted and genuinely liked the most.

Which did suprise Sam but In retrospect, it did make a lot of sense.

They had so much in common, so much so that Tanker sometimes would refer to Bright as a "mini them".

Tank did see Bright as kinda like a step son and Bright saw Tank as like the cool step mum to Sam's grouchy step dad.

And it was because of this, the two had made a habit of hanging out whenever Bright was.....feeling bad.

It started out as them just going places together, karaoke, party's, exploring old abandoned malls, just like when it was just Bright and Fred, but eventually they started sparring and working out together.

Bright wanted to compensate for being turned by new blood and Tank wanted to let off some steam so they became gym buddies.

Then, once they were done, they would go to a clear part of the woods and sparr.

A little while ago Tank beat the crap out of him and asked "do you enjoy being a vampire?"

Obviously Bright said "no" and in response, Tank grabbed him by the hair and said

"Then stop trying to fight like one".

It was only then did Bright understand that he'd never be a strong vampire if he played by their rules, he was turned by new blood, he knew that, but maybe he could be strong

If he fought like a wolf.

Bright had learnt from Tank that vampires, wolfs and elementals all have different fighting styles but vampires specifically see their fighting style as gospel so its easy to spot there weaknesses.

So Tank agreed to train him and now he has the strength of a vampire, but the skill of a wolf.

But unfortunately that wouldn't prevent a wolf like Tanker from beating him.

Tank may have admitted that Bright is the only vampire they'd ever let beat them, but that was because they had sympathy for him not because he necessarily COULD beat Tank.

"Ow ow! OW! OK OK TIME OUT!"

"Alright, Alright, get up"

Tank let out a few chuckles as they helped him up from the hard, dry forest floor.

"OK, OK you've done good today, you wanna take a break?"

Trying to hide his breathlessness, Bright replied.

"Yeah....that sounds good"

They both sat on the floor, Tanker pulled out a canteen and gave it to Bright.

"Thanks"

He glugged down the water, it had a mild iron taste to it.

As he did, Tanker pulled out a cigarette and a lighter.

Bright noticed this and rolled his eyes.

"I still don't understand why you always do this, you don't smoke! What's the point? You're wasting a perfectly good cigarette!"

Tank just shrugged at this, they always had this same conversation basically every time they saw each other.

"I quit a while ago, but I still like the ritual of it, besides this helps me not smoke, but I know you think that that makes no sense"

"Yeah, cos it doesn't, anyway just give it to me once your done holding it"

"I thought YOU were quitting? And that you took up that push-pop looking, flavoured shit"

"Vapes, and yeah, but I propose the point of, it's not like vampires can die of lung cancer"

Now it was Tank's turn to eye roll

"Just cos somthing won't kill ya doesn't mean it isn't bad for ya"

Hearing this, Bright's mind went to what happened yesterday night.....he felt the scars brush across the fabric of his clothing.

"Y-yeah"

Tanker noticed his sudden change of tone

"OK, what's wrong, you know as well as I do that we only hang out like this if one of us has got a problem we can only share with each other, so have at it, whenever your ready"

Bright sighed and it sounded painful

"K but, I'll be needing that"

He gestured to the rolled up, tobacco filled paper that they held in their two fingers.

"Fine then"

Bright took a drag from it, then felt the confidence to tell Tank about what he did the other night wash into him.

As he explained, he pulled back his sleeve and slowly removed his glove, so as to not rub on the scars that William's healing could not fade.

Tank looked at him with a sympathetic disappointment, though they weren't disappointed in him, they were disappointed with themself for not being there to stop him.

However those thoughts were quickly pushed away by Bright as he reassured Tank that it wasn't somthing they could have stopped him from doing at the time.

He then explained what happened with William and how he had prevented him from burning himself to the bone.

"William? Why would William do something like that? I mean I'm grateful that he did obviously, and you should be too, but why him specifically?"

"Oh! I totally forgot to tell you! Sorry, I probably should have started with that"

"Tell me what?"

"Well...."

Bright took another drag then went on to explain what had been transpiring the last couple of days.

After he'd finished, Tank exasperated heavily as they took it all in.

"So he wants you as his progeny?"

Bright nodded almost sheepishly.

".....do you WANT to be his progeny?"

"......yeah....I think I do"

"Then why didn't you take up the offer right away?"

"Because I....I don't want him to regret it....I don't want him to regret ME. I like him, he's nice to me Tanker and I just....you know I've been passed around by father figures before and William has regretted every progeny he's ever had so....I don't know"

Tank understood, they probably understood better than anyone Bright knew.

"Yeah, so what are you gonna do?"

"I have no idea, I was kinda hoping you'd give me an answer?"

Bright elongated the last words of his sentence and heightened the tone of his voice, implying that what he really ment was

"pleeeessse tell me what to dooo"

Which Tank found amusing.

But would not entertain.

"Nah, sorry kid, you have to make this choice on your own, but I gotta say, what your doing now is good, your taking your time to think about it, your weighing out pros and cons and I'm proud of you for that"

Bright looked almost bashful, but he'd never allow even Tank to see that, so he turned away from them.

Tank responded to this by smiling and turning their head towards him, but he would not face them.

Then an idea struck them, the smile grew wider.

"Hey, you want me to do....the thing"

Bright's head turned just as quickly as expected.

"Y-yeah"

"Cool"

At that Bright turned away again as Tank got up and proceeded to remove layers of their clothing.

A little closer to when they had first met, Bright had confided in Tank that the closest thing he had ever gotten to therapy was an emotional support dog.

He was a bull Terrier named Spike and two months before Bright's turning, he died.

That was the first and only time Fred ever saw Bright cry.

At the time when Bright had told Tank that, they proceeded to shift into their wolf form

And Bright responded by crying for the first time since his turning.

The two huddled together for hours before falling asleep in the woods. Sam eventually found them and berated them both for being out so long but from then on, Tank would be there whenever he needed it.

It was safe to say Bright was a dog person.

Once Tank had shifted, they nudged him so he knew he could turn around.

Bright smiled as he began to stroke them. They got closer and eventually Tank found themself laying down in his crossed legs.

They were significantly larger than him but they managed and eventually

He let it all out.

Tank didn't mind that their fur was wet and smelled like salt from the tears, because they would have killed for somone to have done the same for them when they were a kid like Bright.

The closest thing Tank had to that was....him and while they may joke about Bright being like a mini them, the last think Tank wants is for him to go through what they had to to be where they are today.

This way....Tank could give him the thing they didn't have back then.

Somone they could trust and confide in.

Eventually, after the tears subsided, Bright pushed Tanker out of his lap and got up.

The cigarette he had previously held in his fingers was now burned out and on the dry forest floor, Bright stomped it out and started walking.

Tank, still in wolf form, followed along, grabbing their clothes with their muzzle along the way.

This was how I was, they would have their moment and then Bright would need some time alone, and Tank understood that, so as they walked back to the solaire mansion, Tank kept their distance.

Somthing not even his best friend could understand.

Eventually they made it back.

Bright gave one last look at Tanker before walking up the obnoxiously large hill that led to the solaire Manor.

Tank had to retreat back into the woods in order to go home to her Sam.

So he gave a limp, but filled with gratitude, wave of his hand before Tank trotted into the darkness.

As he staggered up the hill he thought about his decision for the 10000 time.

He knew what his decision was going to be.

Maybe be always knew.

He quickened his pace in order to gain momentum and eventually burst through the doors of the Manor.

Not stopping, he did what he referred to as 'zoomed' up the flights and flights of stairs

To William's office.

Once again, just as he had before

He burst in.

Slightly out of breath.

William looked more startled than before, maybe it was the storm brewing up outside or the fact that he looked like he was just on the phone.

"I'll do it....I'll be your progeny"

Before William could respond, Bright brought his finger in front of him.

"On one condition"

William smiled as he got up from his desk.

"Oh?~ and what might that be?~"

"Can you promise?"

"Promise what exactly?~"

"That you won't regret it?"

William stopped in his tracks as the smile faded from his face.

"You've regretted every progeny you've ever had, and I'm sick of being passed around from person to person, each making promises that they don't intend on keeping, so I'll be your progeny

If you can promise me that you won't regret it.

That you won't regret ME.

Can you do that?"

William thought for a moment, which to Bright, was not a good sign.

He did have a point, thought William.

He HAD regretted every progeny he had ever taken in.

However he regretted alexis because he had embarrassed himself by being a bad judge of character at the time.

He only regretted Vincent because seeing him like his own child was not only a liability but it also compelled him to bend over backwards trying to shelter him from the world that could hurt him.

There was no denying that William sees in Bright what he sees in relation to Vincent.

However he knew he couldn't shelter Bright the way he had Vincent.

Bright has already seen the parts of the world that William would have otherwise kept away from him, most likely even before his turning.

He can't protect him, but he can provide him with everything he needs when he gets hurt.

The smile returned to his face.

"Yes, I can promise you that"

Bright wasn't sure if he believed him.

And he knew damn well he didn't deserve what he was offering to him.

But.

"OK then, shake on it"

William continued in his stride across the room towards Bright.

When he was face to face with him, he shook his outstretched hand.

"I look forward to teaching you Bright eyes~ I'll make arrangements for your coronation during this year's summit~"

"....ok"

William was going to mention that he wouldn't be there but he thought it best to leave that to a better time.

(Sorry this one took so long, I've just been doing other sh*t)

[freshiegayboi]

tldr: im having a bad time lol but im working on it!

im not a huge fan of tell-all's in regards to my personal life

a lot goes on that i really only tell a specific group of people, my partner lollipopskele, and my besties pterosaursinspace, absurdmageart, sheewolf85 and thesinbubble being some of them

but the past year and really, the past about couple days/weeks have been a special kind of hell, so i thought id open up a bit and explain, so if i drop off the face of the earth, yall know why, and know ill be back as soon as i can!

tldr (again) is my family has been dealing with a Lot of major health concerns, so tw for a lot of talk about the Big Bad C and similar bad health stuff

so... around january, february of last year, my dad found out he had cancer. its a blood/marrow cancer, but they caught it pretty early so the doctors think they can take care of it good.

he goes in june of 2023 to get a bone marrow transplant. it goes well, hes home within two months, things are looking up.

they find out... i wanna say october, the numbers arent going up like they want. that december, they know the cancer is back.

they schedule another bone marrow transplant. my dad goes in the end of february 2024, and does chemo, radiation, then the transplant. hes currently in recovery, and his numbers look even better than the first time.

fast forward to last week. my baby sister, who is for all intents and purposes my daughter, has been using the bathroom a lot. every 15 minutes this kid has to pee. shes constantly hungry, and constantly thirsty. she sweats constantly, no matter the temp or what shes doing.

now, to some of you that will sound hauntingly familiar. shes 7, my baby is, so i start worrying about diabetes. im diabetic myself, but mine is type 2. hers is looking like type 1.

so i take her to the doctor, with our mother. they ask all the questions, and schedules tests. they test for uti's twice, nothing. the tests all come back negative for anything, except her sugars. her sugars when they check it are 131. for context, a kid her age should not have blood sugars levels above 100.

so we go to the doctor again. they check her a1c (which, for reference, checks her sugar levels for the past three months). theyre at a good, normal level, so they say shes fine.

im taking her tomorrow to see my doctor, who im hoping can give me a better answer.

im officially in charge of my siblings as of right now. my mother needs to stay with my dad until hes fully released to come home, which could be soon, or could be weeks from now.

ill be making sure all the housework is taken care of, that they get to school and do their homework. ill be making sure the bills get paid, and the groceries are taken care of. ill be managing my sisters health.

so again lol

if i fall off the face of the earth, feel free to give me a shout

ill be back though, not to worry about that <3 and ill be writing on things as im able!

love you guys, thanks if you read to the end lol

[narabea06]

Bestie kinda curious

Since she really doesn't have a canon origin since her creator went afk

What is your headcanon origin for Nurse Ann? 👀

SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG TO GET TO-

Nurse Ann Origin Headcanons -

TW: Obsession, Stalking, Manipulation, Parent Death, Murder, Abuse, Dismemberment

She is Filipino on her dad's side and Colombian on her mom's side. She grew up in Columbia with her parents, and often visits her daughter there thanks to Zalgo's help.

Her parents got divorced when she was 12, and co-parented Ann together until Ann’s mother passed away from cancer when she was 15. This pushed her towards her career path to help people and become a nurse.

Ann had some issues with her dad as she got older due to her mother's death pushing them away from each other, but nowadays, while she still understands that she does have daddy issues she needs to work out, she does forgive him, though she can never say it to his face.

She has both a nursing degree and a psychology degree, and worked as a nurse at a children's hospital for years.

She met her ex-husband Reginald at the hospital she worked at. They were coworkers, with Reginald being a janitor. Reginald became obsessed with her after seeing her around and often would actively stalk her to get to know her more before they actually spoke. Ann knew she was being stalked and followed around her, but had no idea it was Reginald until he confessed to this years into their marriage.

Reginald would often purposely say things around Ann and would plan out his interactions with her to make sure she liked him, and would be very manipulative to make sure Ann fell for him. Ann did not realize that Reginald was doing this, and asked him out after mistaking him as a gentleman. They eventually started dating and got married four years after Ann met him.

Ann and Reginald had a daughter together named Isabella. She was adopted as a baby after they realized Reginald was infertile and couldn't have a child. Nowadays, Isa lives at Ann's father's house. Ann visits her regularly. She hates having to be away from Isabella for longer than a day, but only has the chance to visit every week.

Ann died a year after she adopted Isa from a big fight her and Reginald had that ended in Ann threatening to take Isa and leave. The fight started due to Reginald accidentally confessing how he manipulated her and lied to her for years, and stalked her before they met. In a panic of having Ann leave him, Reginald killed Ann before she leave the house.

The reason Ann looks stitched up is because Reginald hid her body by dismembering her and hiding her under their house.

Zalgo resurrected Ann out of sympathy from feeling her rage from her death, bringing her back as an undead Underworld proxy. She proceeded to work for Zalgo for years, using her psychological and medical knowledge to become one of his bext proxies.

Ann retired as a proxy after ten years of working under Zalgo, with murdering Reginald being her last mission. Zalgo let her retire and let her go about her own things, and in return for her past servitude, she is able to call upon him for help at any point. Because of this, she is highly respected among the other killers.

The “mansion” in this universe is not run by Slenderman, and in fact is run by Ann, and is referred to as The Refuge. It's supposed to be a safe haven for paranormal entities and other killers. She started it with Puppeteer in order to allow a safe haven for people who are on the run, or aren't human. Nobody is allowed to start fights here, and all enemies that stay there need to leave their issues at the door.

They unofficially adopted Clockwork, and met her through Clockwork becoming a Zalgo proxy and being assigned to be mentored by Ann. Ann is a tired strict mom and Clockwork is essentially her adopted edgy teen.

Ann is aroace and romance-repulsed, but did not realize, and always just assumed she had bad luck with connecting with others. Her relationship with Reginald was very one-sided, and she only actually started dating him after mistaking platonic feelings for romantic. She also often was chastised for not getting married yet by her father, and just assumed that her being unhappy in her marriage was normal, given how her parents always were unhappy in theirs. Not only that, but with how Reginald purposely isolated her and made her believe that no man was interested in her, and always said what she wanted to hear when they first met, she didn't believe that she had any other option besides him.

[ismelinor]

Tantalus

Read on AO3 | tagging @today-in-fic | word count: 3,413

Summary: Mulder kisses Scully while she has cancer - and naturally, they never talk about what it means. Scully overhears Mulder calling it a mistake, and her hurt and confusion colour her view of their tumultuous relationship during seasons 5 and 6. TW: vague reference to suicidal thoughts.

There was nothing extraordinary about the day he finally kissed her. In fact, looking back, she’d be hard pressed to say which day it was: they all blurred together, those interminable hours spent on hospital beds, waiting for another visitor to stop by with wide, sad eyes. It made her feel like she was already in a casket, her loved ones processing past the body to say their goodbyes.

~~~

In the early days of her cancer, she’d found herself strangely fixated on a memory from her time on the oncology wards as a medical student. Mrs Baddesley was the lady’s name. Scully always thought of her as Mrs Baddesley, even though you can call me Polly, dear was practically her catchphrase. She remembered presenting her to the consultant, in the days when presenting a patient was still something new and nerve-wracking: This is Mrs Baddesley, seventy-three years old, presenting with a lung tumour secondary to an ovarian tumour. Treatment is adjuvant chemotherapy. Cisplatin appears relatively well received, with some nausea and vomiting reported.

Scully (who was just Dana in those days) got through her presentation relatively unscathed. The consultant had grilled her on mechanisms of action and drug distributions, but she wasn’t top of her class for nothing. As the doctor swept out of the room, her classmates following in his wake, Mrs Baddesley had clasped Scully’s hand. She looked down in surprise, worried that she’d offended her, but she was smiling.

“You looked more nervous than I am, and I’m on my third round of chemotherapy,” she said. Scully ducked her head, embarrassed: she was still learning to don that mask of clinical detachment. Mrs Baddesley squeezed her hand. “It’s a good thing, dear. I’ve banished my poor husband from the hospital, and it’s nice to meet another human being round here.”

The remark had confused Scully at the time, but it wasn’t until a month or so later that she understood it. She’d come across Mrs Baddesley again, this time in the outpatient waiting room, and had sat down to talk to her. She was doing well, she said. The chemotherapy hadn’t worked, but she’d made the decision to stop treatment. She smiled as she spoke about how she wanted her last months to go: she didn’t mind where she was, as long as her husband was there.

After a lull in the conversation, Scully asked why she’d not let her husband come to the hospital. Mrs Baddesley nodded, like she approved of the question. That was how Scully learned something her textbooks hadn’t told her: that patients could develop aversions to certain smells and tastes if they were exposed to them during chemotherapy. Turkey had been Mrs Baddesley’s favourite food before her first experience with cancer – and then she’d been given a Thanksgiving dinner during the worst of her chemotherapy, and ever since, the very sight of turkey made her retch. This time around, she’d been so scared that she’d develop an aversion to her husband’s smell that she wouldn’t let him visit her at all on the chemo days.

Scully never found out what happened to Mrs Baddesley, but her story had stuck with her over the years, and came back with full force after her diagnosis. In those early days, when she’d still had hope that, with the right treatment, she might make it through, she’d been careful to eat only bland foods. She’d switched out her bath salts and body scrubs for cheap unscented body washes. She’d even asked her mother to stop wearing her signature perfume, the one that always reminded Scully of playing dress-up with Melissa in their mother’s blazers.

She couldn’t bring herself to ask anything of Mulder, though. The idea of being deprived of his scent in those days when he seemed to do nothing but wrap his arms around her – it was unthinkable.

And then, of course, it didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to make it out alive, so she didn’t need to worry about associations and aversions after all. That was what she was thinking on that totally un-extraordinary day in the hospital as Mulder sat on the edge of her bed, holding her hand. Odd as it sounded, she was glad she could smell him to her heart’s content.

She wondered what he was thinking, looking down at her with dark eyes and the hint of a smile. She didn’t have to wonder for long: he cupped her face, leaned down, and kissed her, just like that. For a moment, all Scully could think of was how chapped and dry her lips must be, but then he licked at them and all rational thoughts made a swift departure. All that remained was God, finally and yes, yes, yes and her hands were tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

It took a long time for him to pull back – about two minutes too long for it to be quietly brushed off as a quick peck between friends. He had a dazed expression on his face, which Scully thoroughly enjoyed. She sat up to chase his lips, fingers still carding through his hair, but the movement proved too much for the precarious state of her stomach, and she leapt out of bed to the toilet – a move she’d had too much practice of lately. Her lunch was in the toilet bowl – the Jell-O Mulder had pressed on her quickly threatening to join it – and she felt him stroking her hair back.

They’d been through too much together for her to feel embarrassed by this little episode. Once she was done, Mulder kissed the crown of her head and left her to clean her teeth. He had to get back to work; he was going to find a cure, he told her – he’d told her that before, of course, but this time…well, this time, she had a really good reason to hope he was right. That kiss was a promise. If she got better – well, they wouldn’t be interrupted by any ill-timed vomiting. She’d make sure of it.

~~~

And then she had gotten better.

There was no kissing yet, but that was okay. She was still recovering, and she knew that he needed to recover too.

There was promise, though. Something was shifting and shimmering between them: she could see it in his eyes as much as she could feel it within herself. It didn’t matter that they hadn’t put it into words: Mulder was right – they had an unspoken communication between them.

Driving to a teamwork seminar, whispering in the back of the car, she thought this might be it. Time away from the x-files, no life-threatening danger, plenty of time to talk across towers of office furniture. She was a little disappointed and more than a little irritated when Mulder blew off the conference at the first opportunity. He seemed to be blowing her off too, which worried her; it was something he’d done all the time when they’d first met – running off after leads without so much as a by-your-leave, but he tended to be more thoughtful these days.

She wondered if he was waiting for her to say something. That was fair, she supposed: he’d been the one to kiss her in the first place; perhaps it was her turn to make a move. So, she walked into his motel room with a plate of minibar wine and cheese…and naturally, he was completely oblivious and hightailed it out of there like his ass was on fire.

Still, they end up practically cuddling on the forest floor – and, realistically, wasn’t risking death by exposure and huddling for warmth much more them than wine and cheese? She wasn’t going to let the opportunity slide, so she told him about her anger when she was diagnosed with cancer, talked about giving her struggle meaning, and looked down at him, hoping that their unspoken communication would bring him the words she couldn’t quite say: that he had given her life meaning. He had brought her hope when all hope was lost, had loaned her his faith when hers had run out.

She hoped he understood.

~~~

It was a few weeks later that everything went wrong.

She’d bought a new pair of heels – the last ones had snapped when she was chasing down a suspect – and they were hell on her arches. She’d taken them off in the bathroom on her way back from lunch and was padding down the hallway back to the office, wincing with every step, when she heard Mulder’s voice through the door. She caught her name and decided to do some eavesdropping (what was a little eavesdropping between friends?), keeping her steps as quiet as possible as she approached the door.

“-and I told you that in confidence, Byers.” That wasn’t very promising: he was on the phone to the lone gunmen, then.

“I know you think I should tell her. You’ve told me a thousand times. I can’t.” Huh. Scully strongly suspected that she was the only ‘her’ in Mulder’s life. She certainly hoped so, after the way he’d kissed her.

“It was a mistake. A moment of weakness. It’s never going to happen again, so I don’t see why we need to talk about it.” Scully had a nasty feeling in her stomach. She didn’t want to listen anymore, but she was frozen in place. “You didn’t see her in that hospital bed. She was dying and there was nothing I could say or do to make it better.” Oh God.

“I know that, Byers. It was the lowest moment of my life. You think I don’t feel guilty enough? All I think about is that goddamn kiss-”

Scully backed away from the door, vision whiting out for a moment. He wasn’t – surely, he didn’t mean-

She turned and walked back down the hall as quickly and quietly as she could. She didn’t stop until she was sitting in her car in the lot, hands on the wheel and tears streaming down her face.

How could he?

That was the only question in her mind for the entire drive back to her apartment.

How could he call their kiss the lowest moment of his life?

How could he gossip about it to his friends, like she was some one-night stand and not his partner of five years?

How could he have kissed her in the first place, if he knew he didn’t have feelings for her?

Ha. Well, that explained the severe lack of reciprocation since her recovery. He hadn’t wanted to kiss her in the first place. He’d seen how much she wanted it – had pitied her – and figured he’d never have to follow through, since she’d be fucking dead anyway.

That was when the rage hit her.

She’d always had something of a temper, though she’d learned to push it down, only let it out when lives were at stake. That annoyed her too. She hated being called fiery – hated the not-so-subtle references to her hair or her biology. The men she worked with never seemed to need explanations for their anger – nobody smirked and asked if it was their time of the month, sweetheart.

As she slammed the door to her apartment shut behind her, she gave full vent to her feelings. Mulder was a jerk. He was as bad as those immature, misogynistic G-men she had to deal with every day. No, no, he was worse. He’d played with her hopes when she was at her most vulnerable, and apparently had never even planned on telling her that he regretted it. What, he was just going to leave her waiting for another kiss for the rest of her life? Asshole. And she’d seen the look on his face after they kissed; that was not the look of a man at his lowest moment. Maybe he’d reflected later on and grown to regret it, but he was lying to his friends and to himself if he said he wasn’t on fire in that moment, just like she was.

~~~

After a while, the rage subsided, and she just felt sad. She loved her job, she really did. She loved working with Mulder – she loved Mulder – but the idea that she would never have more filled her with profound sadness and indescribable longing. She wanted a life outside their quest – something to come home to after the long stake-outs and the brushes with death and the flirting in cars. And she’d really thought that was within her reach.

She was Tantalus: she’d stolen the secrets of the gods, and her punishment was to see everything she ever wanted just out of reach. Her safety – her sister – her health – her child – and now Mulder, all slipping through her fingers.

She was sad for herself, but she was sad for Mulder too. As soon as she was calm enough to think it through, the situation started to make sense, because Mulder wasn’t a jerk. She knew the way he’d been treated after his sister disappeared – the way he was blamed and the way he blamed himself – how he had twisted himself up in knots to please parents who barely acknowledged his existence. And she’d had some insight into his former relationships, none of which sounded healthy; she was willing to bet that he’d changed himself for those women too – that he’d forced himself to do things he didn’t want to in order to please them, because he felt like he didn’t deserve better. So, of course, when he saw a dying woman’s dying wish in her eyes, he’d fulfilled it, without a thought to what he wanted.

It made her sick, and she was still angry that he’d talked to his friends about it instead of her, but she understood it. And so she wiped her tears away, stowed away her anger for the next time lives were at stake, and drove right on back to work. When Mulder asked where she’d been, she managed a tight smile and told him she got stuck in line at the bank. The pencil that fell from the ceiling and hit him on the nose told her he’d missed her, at least. The smile on his face when she told him that the dinosaur-human hybrid he’d been doodling was downright anti-Darwinian was something close to love, wasn’t it?

~~~

The thing was – the thing was, that really would have been enough for her, had she never met Diana Fowley. She could have very readily believed that Mulder loved her as much as he was capable of loving another person: he was entirely devoted to her, she knew – he’d coughed up a half-dozen heartfelt speeches and a round trip to Antarctica to prove it. And Scully could take all of that – all the not-quite-love-confessions and the hospital visits and the forehead kisses – and she could mould it into something that was Enough.

But, no. In Diana Fowley there was living proof that Mulder, like her, wanted it all – had had it, too: a partner in his life’s work and a lover all in one. And suddenly it wasn’t Enough anymore.

Maybe it was childish and selfish, but if all those things between them that gave her life meaning were, to him, a mere echo of a life he’d shared with someone else, they were worth less to her. She couldn’t tell him that, of course. He seemed a hair-trigger away from calling her jealous and delusional at the slightest mention of Fowley – never mind the fact that she’d come to him with very real grounds for distrust.

These days, she felt like she was out at sea – that she was on her little boat of science and reason, being tossed about in his cosmic storm. She drove to work each morning wondering whether he’d be sweet or dismissive; whether he’d argue every little point with her or belly laugh at her wry jokes. It was maddening. He tried to kiss her a second time – he abandoned her to run off with Diana – he told her he loved her – he told her she was making it personal – he played doting husband – he played baseball with his arms around her – he called the debates that were the core of their partnership a perfunctory dance – he called her his constant, his touchstone.

What the hell was she supposed to make of it all?

~~~

It was after the world didn’t end in a hospital corridor that she finally just asked the question that had been on her mind for two and a half years.

“Mulder, why did you kiss me when I had cancer?”

He stared at her, opening and closing his mouth before finding the words. “I couldn’t help myself. I thought we might not get another chance. Same reason I kissed you in 1939.”

“You what?”

“Never mind that, Scully, why-”

“Yes, never mind that. The real question is how can you stand there and lie to me after everything we’ve been through together?”

“Lie to you? I’m not lying, Scully.”

“You are!” They could both hear the sob in her voice, and Mulder reached out to touch her arm but she flinched away. “I heard you on the phone to Byers. You called it the lowest moment of your life.”

“What? Scully, I never said that, I swear. I would never – all these years – every day, all I think about is that goddamn kiss.”

“You said that, too. I heard you, Mulder. You said it was a moment of weakness, and it would never happen again. You were pretty adamant on that point, actually. But it hasn’t stopped you trying, has it? Twice, now.”

Mulder stepped away, pale as she’d ever seen him. He remembered it, then. She wiped away a traitorous tear.

“I know what you mean, Scully. Or…I don’t remember the exact conversation, because I had a lot of phone calls with Byers that went something like that. But we weren’t talking about the kiss.”

Scully turned to leave – she wasn’t going to stand here listening to his bullshit excuses – but Mulder walked over and took her by the shoulders.

“Please listen to me, Scully. Please, please, hear me out. I can’t let this come between us any more than it already has.” It was the same tone of voice he’d used on her in a different corridor, but it was the feeling of his hands shaking on her shoulders that stopped her. She nodded at him.

“When you were sick – when it looked really bad, and I knew it was my fault that you were dying – no, don’t, it was – I did have a moment of weakness. I went back to my place and I drank too much. Nothing happened, I swear, I just thought about it. I got out my gun and I thought…but then I thought about you, and about our kiss, and what that meant, and I knew I couldn’t do it. It was just one moment, honestly. I called Byers and told him everything while I was still drunk and he talked me down from it. Once you got better, he wanted me to tell you, but you were still recovering and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to take care of me, and –”

Scully pulled him into her arms. She didn’t care about the kiss in that moment; all she could think of was how close she’d come to losing him, and she’d never even known it. God, what the hell would she have done?

He was still mouthing apologies into her neck so she pulled back and cupped his face in her hands.

“You didn’t regret it?” she asked.

“Not for a second.”

“You never brought it up again.” Illogical as it was, she found it hard to let go of the hurt she’d been carrying around for so long.

“Neither did you. And then, with Emily…I figured you needed space. I thought you’d say something when you were ready – and when you didn’t, I figured you regretted it.”

Scully laughed, though there were tears running down her face. They could figure out a global conspiracy but one little kiss had thrown them through a loop it took them two years to get out of.

She stroked his cheekbones with her thumbs: my constant. She stroked his lips: my touchstone. And then she kissed him, an answer to the promise he’d made her on her deathbed.