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emeraldborealis · 3 months

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Galaxy of Dying Stars

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x FEM!reader

TW//CW: Hurt/comfort, mention of cancer, reader has moles and freckles but no other descriptions used, a lot of star and galaxy metaphors, established relationship, no use of y/n. Damnation Leon.

A/N: A dear friend of mine requested me to use Damnation Leon with this idea and I had to oblige my muse.

Words: 1,850

Moles ran in the family, beauty marks that would pop up all over your skin, mapping out eras of your life, four in particular meant a lot to you on your right side, forming a rectangle, with two on your hip and two on your ribs.

You'd had them since you were little, they'd been there for as long as you could remember. They were a part of you, something you always associated with yourself.

Moles and freckles were the constellations that mapped out who you were. Some even believed moles appeared in places your lover kissed you often in your past life.

Cancer also ran in the family, and with two of your beloved moles growing bigger you knew you had to get them removed and biopsied.

But who were you without the constellations of the years of your life?

If not just a galaxy of dying stars.

Each one just another ticking time bomb until the whole thing would eventually collapse.

It was superficial, they weren't integral to your personality or who you were as a person, but they were still a map of everything you've been. Who you were when they first showed up.

The appointment was easy to schedule, just one call, that's all. But it felt like ordering the casket for the little girl you were when you first noticed them there. Back when you were so full of dreams, and the ambitions to achieve them, to reach that unreachable star.

The process of the removal was just as easy, some numbing and a blade carefully wielded in your dermatologist's hand, a simple band aid and the reminder to keep it clean, use Vaseline on it if you didn't want it to scar, and not to pick at it. Results of the biopsy and testing from the lab would take about a week.

It was such an easy process, so why did it hurt? Why did it feel like this?

Was this what a dying star felt like? Was this the beginning of burning out? Or were you already long past gone? Just waiting for the light to vanish from an already dead star.

"What's going on with you, love?" Leon's voice suddenly broke you from your thoughts, looking over to him from where you sat on the couch. You hadn't noticed him join you, wondering how long he'd been there.

"Just thinking." You were quick to brush it off, feeling too silly to actually explain or express the issue, and you knew it probably wasn't cancer. Didn't want to worry him. Even still, the wait to find out was still agonizing.

"About?" He prompted you to continue, to explain. Moving closer to you on the couch, draping his arm around you, rubbing your arm and shoulder.

"I got some moles removed today, possibly cancer. But don't worry- it's probably not. And not serious if it is." You explained, playing with your hands, looking down at your speckled skin, the peppering of color, too many little dots to count, but moles were special, bigger. Astronavigation.

"So are you worried about it being cancer?" He seemed a bit nervous, you could tell by the way he pulled you closer, glancing in the way of the kitchen, thinking of a familiar burn soothing his tongue, sliding down his throat to numb everything down.

He didn't like the thought of something like this. Something being a potential catalyst to losing you.

"Not really, I just... sort of miss them. I know that's stupid, but I've always thought of my moles and freckles like constellations across my body." Your words helped take off his edge, helping calm his racing thoughts.

"And now you've lost some stars?" He understood the sentiment, why it would feel like losing a piece of yourself.

Even without the few moles, Leon was sure he could navigate the celestial plane of your body without a single chart, he could never truly get lost. Not when he knew it so well.

"Yeah, feels incomplete, like something's missing." Something in your internal gravitational pull felt shifted, like things inside you were spinning in a new orbit. Making up for the newly burnt out stars.

"Have you heard the theory that moles are where your lover or soulmate kissed you in your past life?" He leaned in closer, pressing his forehead to yours, and in a moment you were spinning from something completely different than a loss of proper internal gravitational pull.

"It's a popular theory. But I'm not following." Blue eyes that could put any galactical marvel to shame seemed to suck you in like a black hole, bringing you closer to what you knew would one day tear you apart.

"I gave them to you once, and as long as you love them I'll give them to you in every lifetime. Maybe next time they'll be able to stay for longer." He explained, pushing you to be laying on the couch. "Which ones were removed?" His voice was soft, but it was laced with something that reminded you how quickly the cold space between you could quickly turn into a blaze.

"The one's on my side, on my ribs." He took your breath away with little difficulty, a gateway to salvation. Something far more tantalizing than the sun, moon or stars. Nothing less than heaven.

"I loved those ones. I know why I gave them to you in our last lifetime together." He gently raised your shirt, folding it up, keeping it over your chest to preserve your modesty. He looked at your body with such reverence, like it was something to worship. Like it was a deity whose altar he would kneel at until his knees cracked, until he himself turned to dust, coming from and returning to the stars.

He lowered his head, bowing in awe to your divinity. His lips gently pressing to the band aids, kissing them with searing hot lips. He treated you like you were more than just a descendent of stardust, instead like you were the whole damn galaxy. A supernova couldn't hold a candle to you, a cosmic wonderland was the only thing he could think to compare you to.

"I think in your next life I should add a few new additions too." He whispered like a prayer against your skin, his hot breath fanning over you, breathing into you new life, new sparks. Gaseous nebulae imploding into new stars inside of you.

"And preserve my favorite astronomical destinations." His lips trailed over you, kissing your already existing moles, the one on your hand, the few on your face, neck, shoulders, arms. Everywhere. "I was so smart to worship you in entirety in our last life together."

Finally he brought his lips to yours, and in that moment it was like galaxies colliding, bursting with destruction and new life. He filled all of your senses, breathing him in like a psychedelic. He was seven times more addictive.

Your hands trailed up his chest, gently holding his face you brought him in closer, your thumb gently brushing over one of his moles. Holding him to your lips until your lungs burned in search of oxygen, only parting from him momentarily.

His moles next to yours were proof of how brightly your love burned for the other in another lifetime. It must have been blinding, needing the constellations of the marks you'd leave on one another to navigate it.

You'd map each other out all over again, a chart to follow of how to love the other the next time fate brings you both back together. An endless gravitational pull of two souls meant to be.

"It's not cancer." He whispered in your ear. "I promise. It's not cancer. The marks of love between us could never be the thing to hurt you. It's not cancer."

"I know. But I still needed to get them tested and removed, just in case." You tangled your fingers into his hair, gently massaging his scalp with your nails, making his eyes drift closed in enjoyment. A reassuring gentle touch. "It wasn't cancer last time, it won't be this time either."

"I love you. And I need to believe that our life transcends this one. I need to know that there was peaceful love between us once, and that after all the hell of this life, there will be peaceful love between us again. I need to keep the world safe for the next time we meet." Leon lowered himself down onto you, laying atop you and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"I believe it does, and that belief is all that matters right? Isn't that what faith is? The hope of things unseen?" Wrapping your arms around him you held him close, cradling him against you. Fingers drifting up and down his clothed back, stopping each place you knew he had moles.

His body was just as perfectly mapped out to you with astronavigation as yours was to him. Known almost better by the other than themselves.

"I can't keep fighting if it's not to be with you again. I can't keep losing people if it's not for the promise of holding you for eternity." His sigh was deep, releasing so much tension from his body.

"I know. I know, Leon." Placing a tender kiss to his temple he let out a soft hum, sinking further into you. His weight was never crushing, only ever comforting, like the warm blankets wrapped around you on a cold morning.

"I'm not losing you. Nothing is allowed to take you from me. I couldn't take it. Not you. Anything but you. Me, but never you." He wrapped his arms tightly around you, holding you like a lifeline. The loss of his idol of worship would make him lose faith all over again.

"I'm not going anywhere, Leon. It's not cancer. Remember? The tests will come back and nothing will be wrong. It'd be too cruel for me to go through everything I have, suffered with all my afflictions, just to get cancer too. So, it's not. Besides, if it is, I'm tough. I could beat it, if only for you." The reassuring words were spoken in equal parts for him and you.

"You're right. You could beat it. Strongest person I've ever known, that's who you are." He kissed your shoulder gently, nibbling on your skin, taking it between his teeth, pinching you, making you almost yelp.

"You don't know yourself half as well as I do then, because if you did, it'd be a self earned title." Grabbing his head by his hair you gently tugged him to look at you. "No biting."

"You're one to talk." He leaned in, kissing your nose. "Can't ever get you to stop gnawing on me."

"What can I say? I'm starstruck, pulled in by you, no other gravity for me, brought to my knees from my need to collide with you." Kissing his lips always made things feel better, like stars aligning. It was a mutual feeling. A mutual need to be together until the galaxy itself burned out.

In this life, and every life down the road, you'd always be pulled together, your stars aligning over and over again. Two souls incapable of existing without the other.

#resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #leon x reader #x reader #oneshot #reader insert #leon kennedy fanfic #resident evil fanfic #resident evil leon #leon scott kennedy #leon scott kennedy x reader

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thetriumphantpanda · 2 months

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This is a PSA for anyone with a cervix (tw: medical, smear tests, gynaecology)

If you’re old enough to have a cervical screening… please do it. Mine recently came back with some nasty looking cells. I’ve had a follow up biopsy which, whilst unpleasant, was nowhere near as bad as I thought it would be, and thankfully it looks like I’ll be okay… but just… please go if you can - the short amount of time you spend being uncomfortable is worth it to catch things early if there’s anything wrong

#tw: Pap smear #tw: cervical screening #tw: gynaecology

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iruludavare · 5 months

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{ ooc. ✌️ hey

Not really sure how to say this but I know this is going to impact my mood and whatnot. I was going to wait until after the biopsy was done but it's already just... taxing me emotionally

The tldr is a breast lump of mine has shown some Suspicious Behaviour™️ and i need a biopsy. They don't think it's cancerous, but it's changed from the last ultrasound, but still just. Idk the thought of biopsy terrifies me. The what-ifs are driving my anxiety through the roof but I also didn't think it would be fair for me to not give you guys a heads up

Please don't ask me about it or how it's going unless you're a close friend of mine. I will update this post with a reblog once I have the results.

If I seem a little off for a bit, this is why. }

#❀⊱⦃ ⏤ {ooc.} ⦄⊰❀

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lovesosweeet · 7 months

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better left unsaid // cth

chapter six

in which orion has leukemia, and calum doesn't know.

read other chapters

july 18th, 2018

los angeles, california

orion

—

“Have fun with Em today!” Calum calls as he leaves the apartment.

I’d told him Em and I were going to go thrifting today, but in actuality, we’re going to the oncologist I’ve been referred to. I was at her apartment for a few hours yesterday, fighting over my choice, ultimately ending in her agreeing to accept that my choice is mine to make. I did, however, have to promise her that if things went south quickly, I’d have to tell him.

She promised to support me as much as she could, but she made it incredibly clear that she didn’t agree with what I was doing. She’s coming with me today to get a bone marrow biopsy and talk to the oncologist. I’m grateful to have a friend who’s so concerned about me and my relationship and my ethics. Having someone to keep you in check while still supporting you is rare. I’m grateful for Emelia.

Not too much time passes before she texts me that she’s outside. I head down and feel relieved that Ron isn’t working today. I don’t really feel like being cheery and talking to him right now.

Emelia’s SUV is out front waiting for me and she has her hazards on. I knock on the window before I open the door, and she’s got some music playing. She doesn’t speak to me as she turns off her hazards and turns on her turn signal. She already has the GPS routed to get us to the UCLA hospital, which isn’t far.

She doesn’t a say a word to me the entire drive, but I guess I’m at fault too since I don’t try to say anything either. I just scroll through Instagram, even though there’s nothing new to see since I just did the same thing inside the apartment. Emelia is still upset with me, but I’m grateful that she’s here, despite that.

We get to the hospital and she seems to know exactly where to go without much thought, and I just follow her.

At the desk, the girl working looks up at us and happily asks, “Checking in?” She is oddly happy for working such a morbid job.

“Yes, last name Moss?”

She nods and starts typing and I tell her my birth date. She then hands me a clipboard and a pen and asks me to fill out some paperwork. Em and I leave the desk to go sit and I go on autopilot again, signing my name and adding the date on dozens of lines.

Emelia sits silently beside me, just scrolling Instagram like I just was. After I hand the clipboard back, Em says to me “You should turn off your location” without looking up from her phone. “You share it with Cal, right? You don’t want him to see you’re here.”

She’s right. Usually I’m the only one who checks locations, but just in case he randomly decides to check today, I turn it off. It feels weird for her to be helping me in this choice, but it is nice to know she has my back, fully.

“Orion?” A nurse calls. Em and I stand up and walk to him. He leads us down a hallway and into an exam room. It feels far too bright in here. Bright and sterile.

"Take a seat, I'll be back in a moment with Dr. Harris and we can get started." Then he's gone and it's just me and Emelia.

"I know you're scared, but I'm here, OK?" She practically whispers, and she grabs my hand.

I try to not think about how I wish Calum was here.

It feels like it takes an hour for the nurse to return with the doctor, but it's probably only about five minutes. Dr. Harris looks just like her picture that I found on the UCLA oncology website. She has a warm smile, which, just like the girl at the desk, feels odd considering where we are.

"Good morning, I'm Dr. Harris," she starts, reaching her hand out to me to shake. She also shakes Emelia's hand before she takes a seat on her rolling chair.

"Uh, I'm Orion, and this is my best friend Emelia," I awkwardly tell her.

"It's nice to meet you, although I understand these are unfortunate circumstances." No shit.

"I just want to start this by seeing if you have any questions that I can answer? Of course you are welcome to ask more later, but I just like to give patients the chance to ask before we start throwing information to you or prodding you with the needle for the biopsy." She's still giving me that smile, which truthfully just feels like salt in the wound.

I know I should have questions, but I don't. I just want her to do whatever they're going to do and go home. I'll do what they ask; I'll do chemo or radiation or whatever it is they want. I just want to get it all over with.

"No," I finally croak out. "I don't have any questions." Em squeezes my hand.

"Are you sure?" Em asks, but she's not talking to me, she's talking to Dr. Harris.

Her smile changes, but she still smiles. Now it's a sad, pitying one. "Based on the blood panel, we're sure that it is leukemia. We'd like to do the bone marrow biopsy to get more information on what stage it is, so we can determine the best course of action for your treatment."

I nod. "Let's do the biopsy then."

Dr. Harris gives a curt nod. "All right, would you like me to explain the procedure? Some patients feel more comfortable when they understand what's happening."

"No, I'm fine."

The nurse hands me a medical gown. "Get dressed in this. You can leave your underwear on. We'll go get the tools ready and be back in a few moments."

They leave the room and I strip down, handing my clothes to Emelia so she can fold them for me. I put on the gown and sit back on the paper-covered chair/bed.

"Thank you for being here." I know she's mad at me, but I'm so glad I'm not here alone right now. "I love you."

Em looks like she's about to cry, but she holds it in. "I love you."

We exchange tight-lipped smiles and leave it at that, both of us now just blankly staring into space.

"I think I'm gonna make the boys have a tour-send-off party. Would you want to come to that?" I'd rather think about anything else than having a needle being inserted into my bone in a few minutes, and it's the first thing that comes into my head.

She chuckles. "Of course, I'd love to come. You know I love those weirdos."

I smile, for real. "They are really weird."

Em laughs and nods in agreement. "Maybe we should try to go visit? While they're on tour? Maybe we can go for part of the Europe leg and you can finally show me Madrid like you've been talking about forever."

Under normal circumstances, that's exactly what I'd want to do with her. We could use our fall break or Thanksgiving break, but I'm not even going to take classes. I'll probably be in treatment, and I don't know if I'll be even allowed to go anywhere or if I'll be in a hospital. If I do chemo, will I even have hair left?

The thought of making any plans in the future feels like a bad idea.

What if I'm dead?

I don't say any of these thoughts to Em. I hold it in. She's already doing so much and feeling so many things about all of this; I don't want to plant it in her brain that I'm worried about dying.

"Yeah, maybe."

Then there's a knock at the door and Dr. Harris and the nurse are back in. What's the point of knocking if they don't even wait for you to say it's okay to come in?

They wheel in a cart with some medical instruments on them that I know absolutely nothing about, aside from the very, very large needle. I'm known for passing out when I get blood drawn and when I get shots, and I'm not sure if this will be just another anecdote of me fainting at a doctor's office.

"I should mention, I sometimes faint with... needles." My eyes are stuck right on the massive needle on the tray.

Dr. Harris smiles at me again. "No worries, you'll be laying down, and we can take a breather whenever you need, okay? And, Russell, go ahead and grab some cookies and juice in case she does faint."

I nod gratefully at her. She's very calming, which I suppose she should be, given her chosen career. Russell disappears and reappears with a bottle of apple juice, Oreos, and Chips Ahoy.

"Alright, Orion, if you'll lay down." Russell starts adjusting the chair so it's flat and I can lay down on it. "On your stomach."

I nervously look at Em, and once I'm laying down, she grabs my hand in hers again. She squeezes, hard. I close my eyes, even if that's just making it even easier to focus on what's about to happen.

"We're going to drape a sheet over you and open your gown so we can access your back," Dr. Harris narrates, and I feel the cool air on my back and the weight of a sheet draped over me. "And we're just going to wipe your back with an antiseptic wipe."

I feel a cold, wet cloth on my back.

"Now you'll feel a pinch and some burning. We're just numbing the area."

I try not to wince when I feel the first injection, and then it burns like she said, and then there's another, and another, and then I just feel the pressure of the injections.

"Now we're going to start the biopsy. You're going to feel some pressure, but you shouldn't feel too much pain. Give your friend's hand a good squeeze if you need to."

On cue, Em squeezes my hand, a nice reminder that she's still there.

The pressure she mentioned starts, and then the pain.

"I'm gonna pass out."

I wake up in a haze. I don't think too much time has passed, but I feel more pressure on my back.

"Are you back with us, Orion?" Russell's voice calls out.

"Yeah," I huff.

"We're putting some pressure on the wound and it's all bandaged up, and then you can have your juice. Sound good?"

I don't really feel like I have a choice, so I don't say anything. Em's holding my hand still. The scary part, I guess, is over. I feel pretty lame, laying here, but I don't know what else I'm supposed to do. I hear them rustling with paper and ripping things; I assume it's the bandages.

"Here we go, let's get you sitting back up," Russell says, and I feel his hand on my shoulder. He closes my gown again before he helps me flip over and sit up, at the same time as he's adjusting the bed back into a chair. "Just chill there, and here's that juice for you."

I take a sip of the juice, and Dr. Harris is telling Em all about the aftercare for my wound. It's not big. I can't go swimming or submerge it in water, and I can take the bandage off in a few hours. It's not a lot of aftercare, really, and I should take ibuprofen ASAP.

"We'll bring you back in next week to discuss the results of the biopsy and the plan for your treatment. Stay in here as long as you need, and enjoy some cookies. They'll check you out at the front whenever you're ready." Dr. Harris says as she takes off her gloves and tosses them in the trash, while Russell is gathering the bandage packaging. "It was nice to meet you both. Please give me a call if you have any questions in the meantime."

Then they're gone.

"How ya doin', champ?" Em's voice sounds out into the quiet room.

I laugh. "Been better, truthfully."

She laughs too. "Fair. Wanna go get a snack after this? Oh, also, before I forget, I brought a random sweater with me to give you in case Cal asks what you got while thrifting today."

I look at her, surprised. I hadn't even though about that part. "Yeah, let's get a snack."

Emelia and I leave the office, the sun glaring in my eyes and making me wish I had sunglasses. She drives us to In-N-Out, where we get fries and diet Cokes for lunch. Even though I'd be fine to actually go thrifting, I want to go home to rot on the couch.

She and I are feeling somewhat back to normal. I'm sure she's still pissed at me, but the air between us doesn't feel as tense, so I invite her to come up to the apartment to hang out, and she accepts the invitation, so I know we're in a good place now.

We sit on the couch for a few hours, throwing a toy around for Duke a few times when he brings one to us. Em is making popcorn in the kitchen when I hear our door unlock and it swings open to reveal Cal wearing an old t-shirt and gym shorts, a little sweaty and still the most handsome guy I've ever seen.

"Oh, hey Em!" He cheers, wrapping her into a hug.

"Hello, hello," she replies. "You're sweaty."

I walk into the kitchen, consciously trying not to wince when I feel the pain in my back. My ibuprofen has worn off. I grab Cal's shirt and tug him towards me, pulling him into my arms, even though he's sweaty.

"Hi, my love." He throws his arm over me and kisses the top of my head, still facing Emelia but squeezing me as close to him as he can.

"Hi, how was rehearsal?"

"Different day, same shit. I don't know why we need to keep going every day. We could perform tonight and it'd go well."

I frown and Emelia and I exchange glances. "Okay, what's the first line of the second verse in Heartbreak Girl?" I decide to quiz him. If he thinks he's ready, he should be able to recite all of their songs.

"Shut up, I'm not playing this game," he whines, dropping his head down in annoyance.

"You said you were ready!" I counter.

"Emelia, how did you spend all day with her?"

"Hey! I am a delight!"

Cal chuckles, reaching out and grabbing a handful of popcorn from Em, who fakes being offended by it. "You are a delight."

"O mentioned trying to do a tour send-off-party for y'all. You up for it?"

"Hell yeah. Let's do..." he pulls out his phone. "Yeah, let's do Saturday. I'll text the guys."

I grin. I love planning things and hosting. It's also so nice to have everyone together. I love getting to spend time with everyone and I'm excited to be celebrating the boys and their tour. They've worked hard and their fans have been waiting for awhile for them to tour again. It's well anticipated. "Can we do a theme!?"

"Sure, babe, whatever you want."

read next chapter

a/n: hi hi hi. guys... i went out last night and fell on the sidewalk and scraped my knees and hand so much i'm v bruised and in pain.

#5sos #5 seconds of summer #luke hemmings #calum hood #ashton irwin #fanfic #fanfiction #5sosfam #5sos fanfic #calum imagine #calum fluff

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ask-turnon-g-addison · 7 days

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hey while u were unconscious some of addons files were leaked and we found this

Turnon .G. Addison

The patient seems to be making a slow recovery despite all external intrusions. A putrid black substance seems to expel from his orifices, predominantly his nostrils and mouth but upon closer examination it has been noticed leaking from his eyes. It appears to be viscous and familiarized in loaded globs, I have gathered what little of it I can for an isolated biopsy. He shows no sign of waking up anytime soon.

just thought id show you. please dont tell addon.

oh, that looks like a medical report, mine actually... Huh, why... Why would this be leaked onto here?... Thank you lightner... Why shouldn't I tell add-on? Wouldn't he want to know this personal information is easy to assess?

#deltarune chapter 2 #addison oc #ask blog #deltarune #rp blog #addisons

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panicdeleter · 9 months

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the unfortunate experience of having dissociative identity disorder diagnosed young is that I go to a fucking psych hospital tell them I have DID and they just, don't believe me. I had fucking Fuge. Motherfucking fuge. Nowhere online can I even find a description of what fuge looks like during the process other than "bewildered wandering" and these psychs definitely got the abnormal psych class at the local college that I've been told by someone who took the class "doesn't even mention the disorder" so my *absolutely has had dyskinesia like 6 times because my first doctor gave me 5mg of abilify as a 5 year old and wrecked my brain* having ass bitch got put on antipsychotics and because I was also age regressed out the ass, and totally disconnected from reality and deep in some antichrist demon boyfriend fantasy (I have... interesting power fantasies when totally unable to cope that apparently just, took over? like I *was* the maladaptive daydream) yeah I just, I want to go on, I can't I don't have the energy to pop back three stages of disconnected connected thoughts. This is just, how I think. I had a point but the amnesia kicked in and now I'll have to walk back through the thought process to find the idea and pick it back up with a new thread of self. I feel like I'm mostly fragment and not even alter. It's fucking atrocious in here guys. I am sorry for the incoherency. I'm tired of doctors not knowing what this disorder even is while also contradicting themselves by believing they're capable of distinguishing between "true" and "false" did like anyone would honestly pretend to be like this... like BPD and DID... I've met several people diagnosed BPD and like, low and behold after a while of hanging out and just, talking about myself and them BPD, CPTSD, and DID all feel like a spectrum of the same fucking thing. It's the same shit. I have at least one friend who's a diagnosed autistic narcisist and she's *also* dealing with the same underlying shit. Like it's all fucking trauma. I'm fucking pissed about how little information there is about DID vs Schizophrenia and how people don't have enough training to recognize did.... which doesn't respond to medications and shouldn't be medicated in the first place... and it takes 5-12 years on average to get diagnosed. That's 5-12 years of intense psychiatric drugs. 5-12 years of being a fucking hostage to a system that isn't educated about you, being passed from psych to psych as they slowly realize they don't know what's wrong with you, from therapist to therapist as they say they *aren't qualified to help*, direct quote from a therapist of mine. I have no idea how to emphasize on top of this how exausting this all is. How much each intake appointment means ripping into your history of trauma and telling them your entire backstory as much as you can. Every bubble sheet filling how much you struggle. Every psych eval... after psych eval after psych eval. I must have had at least 20. I'm tired. This is a major injustice no one gives a shit about. It won't improve, because unlike autism we don't have marketable devices, unlike schizophrenia we don't seem scary or dangerous, unlike chronic illness we can't be scienced in imperical ways, we can't be examined through the lenses of biopsy and genetic testing... what little research is even out there is mostly about detecting "fakers"... when a commonly known symptom of did is dissociating about your dissociation. I want help. I really, truly want help. There just *isn't help*.

#disability #plural #dissociative identity disorder #disability rights #I wish I had access to a dissociative identity disorder friend group #but like the plural tag is 90% syscourse #fuck it it's going on this post anyway #traumagenic #fuge

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probablyhuntersmom · 1 year

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One of the funniest people I know, a talented pianist and family friend, passed away from a long battle with cancer today. I liked it when he and his wife visited and stayed over at our place because their sunny personalities would temporarily put the ongoing crap at home on hold. They were one of the couples that made me go "Ghhh if only they were my parents".

And I can't fucking attend the funeral because he lives abroad. I can't leave flowers for him where he'll be buried and I'm so pissed off.

He never opened the email where I told him I had my own cancer battle. It turns out he was too incapacitated to do so by then. Because he got tired of failed drug trials and decided to reject the morphine he was regularly taking. I had been curious to discuss cancer-related things with him and bond further with him over that.

He used our house to host an overdue reunion party with his long-time friends back in December. He played some beautiful music on the piano. Many of us were prepared to think, this might be the last gathering in which we see him. We were right. And during that time, my doctor and I still thought that my own developing cancer pains (still not removed via surgery, and the X-rays, MRI and biopsy had not been done yet) were just a stupid muscle problem.

Am having complicated emotions about all this. I know he would've wanted to keep going because he had exciting things waiting for him IRL. Whereas for me...

I'm in remission from my own cancer but if I'm honest? 1) I would've loved to trade places with him. Outside of fandom and my fulfilling work, I'm still seeing the IRL outside world as too bleak. I kinda wanted and even hoped to a degree that my cancer would've just taken me swiftly, back in February. But 2) I have the strength to not act on my suicidal ideation because I genuinely believe now that doing that would permanently damage the loved ones I have (siblings, friends, and my clients). It's just that I haven't arrived at the place where I keep going for me and me only. That's going to take time, and honestly a bunch of miracles for my IRL circumstances that would be nice.

So it's those two voices coexisting. They're having a conversation like an angel and devil on my shoulder. I have to let them talk it out with one another and have that noise buzzing around in my head until it passes.

I'm not sure it's survivor's guilt I'm feeling. It's a "It'd make sense that I'd be the one to die rather than him" kind of thing. It's "why the fuck am I the one who's still here, when he was the one who wanted to stay..more than I wanted to?"

He didn't have C-PTSD like I do. He would've seen more of the bright side of life, so he would've wanted to stay more than I want to. He had a jolly personality while I honestly don't: I'm more the reserved-but-assertive type IRL. Like. I know my intrinsic worth, I make good art, write well, I can say that every single therapy session I have conducted in my training and career so far has resulted in the client feeling heard and seen. Hell, I can handle public speaking and love some shows, movies and my fave music. But this fact remains: sometimes I come back to this existential tiredness that sleep doesn't fix and I have that alluring temptation to visualize the peace of death. It's not about me worrying that I can't contribute to anything. It's just that I'm tired.

My brain is trying to rationalize with some form of math, saying that if he passed his fatal cancer to me, and I passed my state of remission to him, it would've satisfied his desires and mine too. He stays, I leave.

I guess this is why I love being in airports too. Being in the departure lounge. The thought of "departing", finding peace somewhere even if only a while. No more pain forever.

Being in the cancer club is weird when you're under 40 or some similar number. Like finding an underground city where you can't really climb back above ground ever again, therefore you become acquainted with the natives of this city and learn their language. He was in that 'city' for a long time while I have just discovered it in recent weeks, but he was gone before I could meet him in that 'city'. He's now some ghost. But I'm still here and not feeling that great about that.

#loz says stuff #cancer tw #is this coherent? idek. is it at least off my chest? yes #death mention

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aisyahyussof · 1 year

Text

Cancer Pt 1.

Where do I even begin? Well, how about when I found out I had cancer.

Yes I have cancer.

"I don't have good news. What we found from your biopsy are some traces of cancer cells. You have Stage 1 papillary thyroid cancer."

Not to sound dramatic but this was the moment when I felt like everything was a blur and well, just like in the movies I could not really recall what happened next. Except for one thing, remembering I had an infant back home and I felt like a failure if I wasn't even given the chance to raise her.

My next thought was, how could I leave my husband with such a big amount of responsiblity?

I didn't think how cancer would actually effect me. I didn't have the time. So instead of being in a blur, I tried my best to concentrate on what the doctor was actually trying to tell me.

"Well, the good news is we caught it early. The survival rate after treatment is almost 90%. We have an action plan for you and that would require surgery. You would have to remove your whole thyroid and ..."

My phone rang.

"I'm sorry, doctor. It's my husband."

"Oh yes, please go ahead."

Mizi had been waiting with my 4 month old daughter in the car. It has been almost an hour.

"Hey dear. is everything okay? Are you going to be long?"

We had thought that this trip to the doctor's would be about thirty minutes max. We definitely did not expect me getting life changing news.

"Hey dear. I have bad news. The doctor says I have cancer."

"HUH? WHAT? Eh dear, this is not funny seh. Ahhh... dear. then how? Do you want me to go up? But ahh, Amelia is with me."

Oh yes, I found out I had cancer when the world was thick with covid.

"I don't know. The doctor says I need to go for more tests for my surgery... so might take awhile."

"A while... i can't be staying here with Amelia right... ahh this is not funny seh. And I promised the sticker seller, I'll be there in ten mins."

I didn't recall saying this as a joke but I understood why he reacted that way. It was his coping mechanism. What was mine?

"It's okay. You go ahead first. Or maybe I can go down. Let me check with the doctor."

Oh yes, that was mine (coping mechanism). Blocking my reality and thinking others'.

"Can I come back for the test, doctor?"

"Well, it's not really advisable."

"It's just that I have to fetch my daughter from my husband."

"Ahh, I see. Sure, you go to the nurses' station and tell them, how long you'll be."

"Okay, thanks doctor."

Give me about an hour and I'll be back. That was me, just finding out that I had cancer, making arrangements for my normal life. My supposedly normal and healthy life.

I guess, it has always been that way. Mizi had been fighting for his life for the past three years. Having a block artery, he had been in and out of hospital and going through multiple ballooning surgeries just so he could save his leg. I was supposed to be that pillar of support. A rock solid support for my ever so strong and courageous husband.

So, that was what I aimed to be. A supporting role, not the leading cast. I did not have time to process what the doctor had said. So I had to turn to google.

5-year relative survival rates for thyroid cancer

These numbers are based on people diagnosed with thyroid cancer between 2011 and 2017.

Papillary thyroid cancer

SEER Stage

5-Year Relative Survival Rate

Localized

near 100%

Regional

99%

Distant

75%

All SEER stages combined

near 100%

Does that mean I didn't have to panic? Was this like a flu? Would surgery solve everything? The doctor said I had to go through some radioactive therapy. Would I be losing hair? What about my daughter? I had to stop breastfeeding. I had to be away from her for a certain amount of time. Would she be ok?

Would everyone be ok?

"Ah, okay. So what now? I send you back to the hospital then I head back and ask Abah to take care of Amelia?" Mizi asks me. He knew what my answer would be.

"It's okay, dear. You just head back and I'll take the bus home. I'm not sure how long it will be."

The phone rings.

"HI, are you Nurul Aisyah?"

"Yes. oh yes I am heading back to the hospital."

"Yeah. your number has been called yeah. Please hurry as the doctor needs you to go through the tests."

"Okay, sure. I'm on my way back."

Mizi turns to me.

"I want to be there for you. But... this is just a lot. Just tell me how I could be there for you. What can I do?"

He tried to hold back tears. I didn't have any. In my mind, I had to beat it. This was not going to define me. I will go through the surgery, the treatments and I am going to be fine.

I had to be fine.

I reached the clinic, bid farewell to Mizi and went into the room. As I waited for the machine to warm up, the doctor stood beside me.

She looked at me, as I looked at her.

"I know this must be scary but don't worry, you're going to be okay."

"Thank you, doctor. I'm just worried for my family."

"Oh yeah, you have a daughter right."

"Yes"

"Is there anyone to take care of her when you're going to the surgery?"

"My husband."

"That's good."

"So after going through the surgery and the treatments, I will be cured?"

"Hopefully. But you would have to come in for checkups even after that. Lifelong checkups and since we are removing your whole thyroid, you would have to be on lifelong medicine too."

"Oh."

"Yes, cause generally when someone has been diagnosed with cancer, we would have to keep testing your cancer markers every year just to make sure it hasn't spread to any other parts."

"Oh, i see."

The phone rang.

"Oh sorry, doctor. It's my husband... yes dear?"

"How are you? Have you gone through the test yet?"

"No, not yet. Still waiting for the machine to turn on."

"Oh okay, i told Abah. I just couldn't hold it. I cried in front of him."

I wish I could say the same. I wish I could have some time to process and cry. But i couldn't, I didn't have time to.

To say out loud that I have cancer... It would make everything real and I still wanted to be in denial that it wasn't a big deal. That I'll fight it like I fought the flu.

I will get better.

I will, won't I?

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mentallymelting123 · 2 years

Text

Pt1

Well our last weekend has come and passed. I asked him to stay all weekend and his response was “let’s play it by ear” when we met up Friday he told me it would be too much to spend the whole weekend together. He’d get too tired. To worn down. So I had to pick what day I could see him. I said Friday, Saturday. I didn’t tell him it was in part because as of Sunday we can’t be intimate anymore because I’m getting a biopsy on my cervix and it won’t be healed before I leave.

So we went to a roof top bar. We had a drink and we talk talked. I mentioned three months didn’t feel long enough. I would’ve liked to keep seeing where this could go. He brushed it off. We talked about past partners. What we need and what in future relationships, partnerships.

He asked me if I thought she was a factor. I said no. He said yes that we were in different stages in life than one another I said I agreed but was wondering if she mattered beside that point. He said no but then was a bit deflective. He put it back on me saying that the age gap had been a problem for me in the past. I said that was because I was a kid. Depressed and anorexic. Which is the truth. We moved on from that conversation. It was very clear after that talk he’s not ready for a partner. Not a real one. I must have been so ideal for him. Someone to do cute shit with but with a time limit so perfect.

Since it was our last night together I bought lingerie. We showered together and things got steamy so when we got out I went and changed into it. When I came out in my robe. I told him the truth. I’ve never worn lingerie before. I took off the robe. He laughed. From there things get fuzzy to be honest. I felt shattered. I know I got a little defensive and said that I tried but these things are made for women with a different body time than mine. I hie stay don’t know what was said after that. He asked if he could use the bathroom and I said sure. But before he went he said “sorry I guess I’m suppose to ask differently. I’m suppose to grab you and through you on the bed right. And then he grabbed my arm. I pulled away and said no but he kept pulling so I let him pull me into the bed and he kissed me but then he got up. He went to the bathroom. I want to the kitchen and got water. When he came out I tried to act casual about it. He started talking about watching a movie. Like I wasn’t in fucking lingerie. I went into the bathroom and took out my contacts. I felt so defeated. Disgusting. And unworthy of anyone. I was blushing. I’ve never blushed before. So I thought on pivot. We had once talked about how I didn’t think I could blush cause I’m not white. So I said. Turns out I can blush. He said what. So I repeated it and then just said never mind. When I came back out I didn’t know what to even do. I sat on the bed. He walked into the other room to drink water. I just got under the covers but was still showing some of it. Like I was hoping maybe he might want me. When he came back he started talking about how he wanted to watch a cheesy old Disney live action. So we turned on the mighty ducks. And started to watch it. It was so uncomfortable. Us under the blankets. Watching a kids movie while I’m in a lace skin tight dress and knees high socks. He said he was too tired to watch the movie 15minutes in. We turned it off he started to touch me. Not in a sexual way at first but eventually he did. It wasn’t the same as it was before. It felt forced. I didn’t move much because I was trying not to cry. He asked me if I wanted to just snuggle and go to bed or.. I said I’m fine with whatever. So he started to finger me. Not gently. Not sweetly. Not in a way a lover does. It was rough. Then he ate me out. Again aggressively. It was a lot. It hurt and felt good because this was the man I wanted to like so much and have one more fucking good night with. He eventually stopped and laid back expecting me to reciprocate so I did. He went and grabbed a condom and fucked me hard. Just in one position. We “cuddled after that” not in an intimate way. A robotic way. He said sorry and that his Lobito wasn’t very high when he was this tired. I then felt like I forced him. I told him I didn’t mean to pressure him. He said he didn’t feel like I did and that he wanted to send me off right. He put his cloths back on. I didn’t know what to do. Eventually he alluded we should go to bed. I said ok but let me get out of this I feel uncomfortable this stupid thing. I slept naked. He didn’t hold me. He just rolled away.

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kaimelia · 3 years

Text

by your side

a/n: hi! random post finale one-shot. enough for you ch 11 should be out later this week!

————————————

"Amelia? Can we talk?" He watched as Meredith glanced between them, and he immediately knew exactly how she felt about what was going on.

"Maybe I should stay," Meredith whispered, slipping on her shoes as she held the door open.

"It's okay." Amelia pulled her cardigan around her body tighter, looking paler than the last time Link had seen her a few days ago. "We'll just sit outside, Mer; it's fine." She pushed past Meredith at the door and crossed her arms over her chest, shivering slightly at the breeze as she walked towards the steps at the end of the porch.

"There's something I have to tell you," Link sighed as he sat down beside her, leaving an uncomfortable gap of space between them. He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her. "It doesn't excuse what happened; because I should've been checking in on you, but I need you to know what I've been dealing with, and every time I try and use my words, I can't do it." Amelia stared at him as he spoke before looking down at the paper, neatly unfolding it and straightening it out.

"Biopsy results? Whose are these?"

"Mine," Link bit his lip and looked away from her.

"Cancer? You have cancer?" He nodded slowly, his lips pursed tightly as he stared blankly down into his lap. "How long have you known?" Link sniffled softly and shrugged.

"Started having symptoms in November. It took me a while to recognize what was happening; I think I wasn't ready to process it, so my brain shut it out. Things kept getting worse, and I got a diagnosis in March." He picked up a tiny stone from the steps of Meredith's house and tossed it between his hands. "I'm starting treatments soon."

"Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell me for months?"

"You were dealing with enough," Link muttered, staring at a crack in the wood below him. "I didn't want to scare you, and I didn't even want to think about it. So, I thought about marriage; I thought that if we got married, I would never have to worry about losing you, that marriage would be the lock to it all and fix everything I was scared of; I thought having another baby would make everything okay, and I wouldn't have to think about the fact that I could die in a few months because we would be so happy with everything else in our lives."

"Link," Amelia started softly, folding the paper back up and placing it beside her.

"I know you hate me," his voice shook and cracked slightly, and Amelia felt tears in her eyes. "Because I was wrong, I was only thinking about myself and what I could do to make things easier for me, and I should've told you earlier, so you have every right to hate me, but I just need you to know why." He shrugged again and clasped his hands together, tilting his head down to avoid Amelia's gaze. "I'm sorry," he whispered, dropping his head into his hands. "I'm so sorry."

"Hey," she placed a hand on his back and rubbed up and down gently. "I don't hate you, Link," she scooched closer to him and wrapped her arm around his shoulder, gently pulling his body towards hers. "We'll figure this out, whatever happens, and I'm going to be here for you because you're not alone, okay?"

"I felt guilty," he muttered, "I felt guilty for having cancer because you were going through your own things, and I haven't known how to help because the only thing I can think of is that I have cancer and if I told you, you would be thinking about me instead of yourself."

"Does anyone know?"

"Nico, only because I didn't want a random person doing my biopsy, but I swore him to secrecy because I wasn't ready for you to know. I'm sorry."

"Stop saying you're sorry," she whispered, resting her head on top of his. "We're both struggling, and we went silent instead of helping each other, and now that I know, we can fix this, we can work through it together." She ran her hand down the back of his head slowly while holding him tightly. "Let's go inside, okay?" Amelia stood up and took his hand, and pulled him up gently, guiding him through the doors to meet Meredith's wide eyes.

"What's going on?"

"Can you get the kettle started for some tea?" Meredith nodded slowly, gazing an extra moment at Link's teary eyes before heading into the kitchen. Amelia brought him into the living room and sat down on the couch with him, handing him a blanket before getting up to meet Meredith in the kitchen.

"What's happening?" Meredith asked softly, taking two mugs out from the cabinet and shutting it gently.

"Cancer." Amelia grimaced and ran a hand through her hair. "He has cancer, and he didn't tell me because I was too caught up in my own things; Mer, my own boyfriend has cancer, and I didn't know." Meredith set the mugs down and pulled Amelia into a firm hug, hearing her sister exhale heavily. "I didn't notice him sick for months."

"Are you okay?" She pulled back, her hands on Amelia's shoulders. "He didn't notice how much you've been struggling, either, so don't blame yourself." Amelia pursed her lips and turned to the kettle, pouring the water into each of the mugs and grabbing tea bags from the cabinets above them. "How about I take all of the kids to the park for the afternoon? I think you two need some time," Meredith whispered, moving her hand to Amelia's back as the neurosurgeon braced her hands on the edge of the counter.

"Thank you." Meredith nodded silently and walked away, hurrying up the stairs to gather the kids. Amelia walked back into the living room with two mugs in hand. "Here," she handed Link one and sat down next to him. "Mer's gonna take the kids to the park to get them out of the house."

"I'm sorry for proposing," Link muttered, bringing the mug up to his lips and taking a sip.

"Stop apologizing, Link." Amelia set down her mug after drinking from it and wrapped her cardigan around her body. "I get why you did it, but I wish you knew that I would be by your side no matter if we were married or not. All I want is for you to be honest with me and to listen to me." He set his mug on the coffee table and leaned back on the couch.

"You haven't been talking to me about what you're feeling, either."

"I know. It's difficult for me sometimes because you don't really know what it's like to be an addict, and I'm glad you don't live like this, but you do live with me, and sometimes I wish you'd be more sensitive when things get more difficult for me. And that you'd be more open about when you're struggling because I had no idea." He nodded slowly, picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of his sweater. They both glanced up as Meredith came clamoring down the stairs with Scout in her arms, the other three kids trailing behind her and speaking a quick goodbye before they headed out the door.

"I have my first round of chemo on Thursday," Link muttered, moving his gaze to the seams of the couch and tracing his fingers along it. "I don't want to go alone."

"I'll come with," she smiled slightly and leaned her head back against the cushion behind her. "Do your parents know?"

"Not yet. And, I'm terrified of telling them."

"You need to."

"I know; I just need time to process it myself, first." He took another sip of his tea and looked at her. "What if I come to some AA meetings with you? Not all, so you still have space without me, but I'll do better to understand."

"As long as you promise me one thing." Link raised his eyebrows as Amelia paused, biting the inside of her cheek as she leaned forward. "No proposing."

"For how long?"

"I don't know. Until things get better or we both decide it's what we want. You have to promise me that, and you can't go back on it."

"I promise. I was stupid, and I wasn't thinking about anything other than me." Link shrugged and pursed his lips. "So, it won't happen again. And, if there's anything I can do better, please tell me, because I've been terrible recently. The cancer doesn't excuse everything."

"I will," Amelia's voice trailed off, and the room was silent for a moment until their gazes met. "Can we just pretend that things are normal for a minute?"

"What do you mean?" Link asked, his eyebrows furrowed until Amelia moved forward and wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him as she sat down in his lap. Link returned the hug, sighing at the familiarity of her scent he'd been missing.

"We'll get through this," Amelia whispered, pressing her face against his neck. "You'll be okay, and I'll be okay, because we'll be there for each other and get through everything together."

#amelink #amelia shepherd #atticus lincoln #amelia x link #amelink fanfiction #grey's anatomy #amelink fanfic #greys abc #greys fanfic #my fics

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esamastation · 3 years

Text

kine-iende: ..Obi-wan with Baby-Desmond?

It wasn't what Obi-Wan was there to do. Aacee was an old world with eons of complicated history and culture, and what went on in their black markets wasn't supposed to be any of his business. What was his business is helping the system negotiate a tricky situation concerning a recently established hyperlane route that threatened to destabilise the planet's frankly concerning economy.

Aacee didn't trade in any currency that the Republic used – they dealt in DNA and blood samples, and the sudden influx of thousands of outsiders using Aacee as a pitstop on one of the longest hyperlanes in that quadrant of the galaxy, well. It had quickly flooded the carefully balanced trade-market with an incalculable amount of fresh new currency. And it didn't help that Aacee possessed some of the rather disturbing amount of wealth, which they didn't see as wealth...

Already a wealthy Core World businessman had traded some ten thousand blood samples for quite a deal of local metals and minerals – which he'd then gone on to make enormous profit with. On Aacenian side, the injection of so many fresh new DNA samples into their carefully balanced market…

In the words of the Grandmaster of their governmental Order, they were heading into a Blood Recession.

Obi-Wan had mediated negotiations dealing with various valuable resources before, but literal blood money was new to him. The Aacenians even had money with blood in it, transparent hard flimsy chips with a dot of red liquid preserved inside.

But that wasn't the issue here – the issue is that while investigating various local guilds trying to disrupt the hyperlane situation for their own gain, Obi-Wan had run into…

He's not quite sure what he's run into. But he would know those eyes anywhere. Sith yellow and sharp, and looking at him like their owner could see his every weakness and knew exactly where to stick the lightsaber. There's Force, dark, murderous Force, glowing in those eyes.

And they're in the face of a toddler, sitting inside a glass display in one of the underground gatherings of local black blood markets – with people looking at the display like he's a great valuable.

"A perfect reconstruction," the host of the event says proudly, while the toddler frowns at him. "It took combining more than eighty bloodlines to bring the DNA together in full, but it's 99.8% accurate to the Original Sample. Subject 17, the very first tradable Memory donor, recreated as perfectly as modern sciences can manage."

There's a round of enthusiastic applause, and then… an auction. Obi-Wan listens in a growing horror as the Aacenians vie for the ownership of the child, and what they're musing is by far worse than what they're already doing.

"A near pure version, oh my – I suppose I will let him grow a little before I begin harvesting," one murmurs.

"You could have a female clone made and then breed them…"

"What a marvellous idea!"

"I would be interestested in any of the organs, if it ever comes down to biopsying – bone marrow and brain cells especially –"

Through this all, the child just looks around with his Sith yellow eyes, radiating Force and quietly simmering in frustrated helplessness. Every now and then the child's eyes turn to Obi-Wan, and the Jedi could swear there's recognition in those cinder eyes. The child is a Force sensitive – enough so to recognise another Force sensitive on sight. And he's using the Dark Side of the force with a liberal, careless baby hand.

… while around him people are talking about draining his blood and making their fortunes off him, like he's an untapped gold mine, ready to be plundered.

Yes, Obi-Wan is very prompt and thorough in reporting the auction and calling the Guards on all of them – and then he's faced with the look the Grandmaster of the Order gives to the child, awed and distinctively covetous.

"A near pure clone of the Original Sample –" the Grandmaster breathes. "We could base a whole new economic tradition on his harvested blood!"

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to dash those hopes," Obi-Wan says firmly, while quickly claiming the child from the hands of eager attendants. "Under Republic law, this not only amounts to a clear case of slavery, but also abuse of a sentient youngling."

The child in his arms takes a grip of Obi-Wan's robes, staring up at the Grandmaster and radiating a calm sense of bad man kill at Obi-Wan, who tries very hard not to react. It's not exactly in words, but the intent is very clear.

"Knight Kenobi," the Grandmaster says, somewhere between exasperation and condescension. "You obviously don't understand how our economy functions –"

"No, clearly not, but I will be making a thorough study of it," Obi-Wan says firmly and then adds, "I'm also going to have to report this to the Senate. Do you know that under Republic law the trade of organs of unwilling, unconsenting donors is quite illegal with very heavy ramifications? This includes blood."

"Not if the donors are clones, Knight Kenobi – I know the laws too," the Grandmaster says and goes to take the child from Obi-Wan. "I know our rights – and the clones we use in our economy have next to none."

The toddler makes a discontent noise, pressing closer to Obi-Wan. Do not want. Death to bad man.

Obi-Wan gives the toddler a soothing little bounce, keeping him well out of arm's reach. "As a Force Sensitive youngling, however, this one does," he says.

The Grandmaster hesitates. "Force Sensitive –" he starts, and then his eyes widen.

"Yes – your black market cloners seem to have done the impossible and produced a Force Sensitive reconstruction of one of your ancient ancestors," Obi-Wan agrees as sweetly as he can, no matter how the idea worries him, and no matter how much murderous intent the baby radiates at him. "And you may trust me, Grandmaster, people will be very interested in the process. It will bring quite the deal of publicity to your fine world – including, I expect, a thorough investigation by the Jedi Order."

It would also bring the planet into public consciousness, including their economic system, which would likely lead to further flooding of their market and its inevitable total destruction. Obi-Wan can't say he particularly cares anymore, knowing now what it was based on.

The toddler looks up at him, sticks most of his fist into his mouth and thinks, kill bad man?

No, little one, Obi-Wan answers with sigh while the Grandmaster of Aacee sputters in indignation. No killing today. Be calm, be at peace – bad men won't hurt you, I won't let them.

The toddler sighs, clearly put upon by this refusal, but settles against his side. Kill bad man later, he projects and presses his cheek to Obi-Wan's chest, still chewing on his own fist. His next thought is more muddled and complicated, and amounts to break all their toys. Or maybe dismantle their powerbase and overthrow the government, but Obi-Wan rather hopes it's the first one.

Either way, there's still a lot of work to be done in Aacee, and Obi-Wan is determined to do a good job of it, even if he has to do it while never letting the toddler out of his sight for the fear of seeing him kidnapped by blood-hungry Aacenians. And if he ends up forming a fledgeling Force-bond with a toddler darksider… well.

He'll deal with it later.

Continued here

#fanfiction #crossover #Assassin's Creed #star wars #obi wan kenobi #desmond miles #Badass with a Baby

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euphoriyoongi · 3 years

Text

☂︎ Doom at Your Service || p.j.m smau

☂︎ Summary:

you lost your parents at an early age, and now you’re diagnosed with a brain tumor, forcing you to have less than 100 days to live. As you pray for the destruction of the world, the destruction himself—Jimin—comes to live with you in your last days.

☂︎ Pairings: Doom!jimin x sick!reader

☂︎ Word count: 2.4k

☂︎ Warnings: language

prev. // next.

m.list

☂︎일 one— peace out

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

“It’s glioblastoma.” The doctor said, looking down at the paperwork in front of him. “It seems like a few tumors. It’s terminal.”

Terminal? Where did you go wrong in your life for this to happen? Was it because you never did anything else but work?

“It’s why you’ve been dizzy and why you’ve been throwing up.”

All you could do right now was just stare at him, wide eyed.

“We could take more tests—a biopsy—but, the location doesn’t look good.” He let out a sigh, looking behind him to see the Head CT scan.

“I see.” You said, confused, but still understanding his words.

“There’s a surgical option, however,” he stopped speaking and looked up to your eyes, nearly pleading you to take this seriously. “It won’t give you much more time.”

Keeping calm, You asked the question you were dying to hear. “Am I going to die?”

It seemed a bit morbid, but the doctor didn’t seem fazed. “Yes.”

The doctor was silent. He didn’t want to tell you and it was obvious. It might be because you knew him personally outside of the hospital, but right now, he just looked at you with eyes of worry. “If you get the surgery, you’ll have about one good year. At most.” He murmured, bringing his gaze back down to the papers. “But still, it won’t be an enjoyable year.”

“And if I don’t get the surgery?” You questioned, playing with your hands in your lap nervously. You had a feeling he was going to tell you to get the surgery and not worry about time, but what he said sent chills down your spine.

“Three months. Maybe four.” He sighed, flipping through the papers. “Please think about this, you’re going to suffer great pain if you don’t decide on surgery.”

“I couldn’t get off enough days for surgery” You said, calmly.

The doctor looked dumbfounded. “But I—I think this is much more serious than missing a bit of work.”

You couldn’t think. Maybe it was the tumor making you think that You couldn’t, but you were overwhelmed. You tried to keep your calm, and stood up abruptly, pushing the chair back behind you. “You seem like a real doctor.” You said to him with a smile.

He was a real one, but he was also a writer, and you were his editor. You couldn’t help but feel like this was all some sort of joke. It wasn’t, though, and he didn’t laugh. “Just make sure you get your writing in on time.” You said, forcing a smile. “Then,”

You started to walk away and out of the room when he called out to you again. “I trust you to make the right decision, whatever way it is for you. But please, if you decide surgery, come here or call as soon as possible.”

Now out of the room, you walked down the corridor and towards the atrium. The words the doctor said hit you straight through the heart. You didn’t want the surgery. You had too much work to do. You wouldn’t be able to. You might as well enjoy whatever time you have in life.

“Glioblastoma..” You muttered under your breath. “Glioblastoma..”

As you kept saying that treacherous word over and over again, You must’ve not of been paying attention to where you were walking. You bumped into someone in a white doctors coat, and as he caught you in his arms, your heart beat a bit faster as you looked up to his face.

What kind of..face?

Sure, he was beautiful. His eyes were sharp, and his lips looked soft you nearly reached out to touch them. His hair was some sort of dark blue..maybe green? Possibly even black. It was the kind of color the human eye would have difficulty deciphering. He was stunning. But as stunning as he was, when he opened his mouth, he knew it too. “I know I’m handsome. But I’m busy.” He smirked, and lifted you back up to your feet and walked away.

You watched him walk, his footsteps making little pit-pats on the tile floor. He was even attractive from the back as his white coat flowed behind him.

Breaking out of your funk, you continued to walk towards the reception desk to check out. “Hi, I’m Y/L/N, Y/N checking out.”

Just as you finished your sentence, sirens started blaring right outside the entrance door, and paramedics rushed in with multiple stretchers, sending the people around staring to worry about what happened. On the tv next to the desk, it showed on the news that there was a large-scale stabbing. He stabbed seven people, and all of them were rushed to this hospital. And well, you guess this included the perpetrator as well.

You gritted your teeth. “That crazy—“

“Mam? Are you going to pay?” The receptionist called out to you, and you brought your attention back to her.

“Ah, yes..”

Looking at the bill, it was nearly seven-hundred dollars. Your eyes widened and you nearly said some things You shouldn’t say. “Crazy—“

“What?” The lady tilted her head at you, her eyes squinting.

“Ah, never mind.” You looked around the room. “Can I pay this in monthly installments?”

The lady started to type on her computer. “For how many months?”

The doctor’s words flooded back into your mind when she said the word “month”. It reminded you that you would only have a few of those to live…and it was strange to think you don’t have longer. Just an hour ago you were living your life like normal, thinking you’d have forever to go. Truth is, life isn’t permanent. And it’s only a matter of time when you get a death sentence.

Smiling, you just said the only amount of time you have. “For three months, please.”

Back in the emergency room, Jimin stood in the midst of all the injuries, watching the stretchers roll in one by one.

Not yet. He thought to himself, watching a stretcher with a man bleeding heavily. He couldn’t help them. It was their fate.

Just then, another stretcher rolled in. This time, it was followed by multiple paramedics and he was put onto an ER bed.

There he is.

Since Jimin was dressed up in a hospital coat, the paramedic started to explain the situation. “He’s the perpetrator. He tried to kill himself on the scene. The police are on their way.”

He nodded, and turned to his right, where a nurse was coming to tend to the patient. She noticed that he didn’t have a badge with his name on it, and blinked at him. “Excuse me, which department are you—“

He interrupted her by fixing the sleeve of her top, and she stared at him right into his eyes. Big mistake. He stared back, gazing deeply into her as if compelling her. He was.

Her eyes widened as he didn’t even need to say any words for her to listen to him.

Smirking at her, Jimin leaned in closer. “Pull the curtain around the perpetrator. I need you to make sure no one but the police can enter.” He demanded, staring intently at her until she answered.

“Yes doctor.”

He smirked again as she walked away, and made his way back to the man who didn’t deserve to die after hurting all of those people. It wasn’t fair.

The man was heavily bleeding from the stab wound he made himself of his neck, and laid lifelessly as Jimin neared. “Open your eyes, prick.”

As if on command, the man’s eyes pierced awake, getting a blurry image of Jimin standing over him with a frown.

He laid there without speaking as he nervously looked at Jimin, who wasn’t helping him at all. “Ah, I see. You think you are something, eh?” He sneered, a smile resting on his face. “We’ll I’m the one who’s something. You’re nothing.”

He leaned closer to the man. “It feels as if you parked in my goddamn parking spot. A horrible park job, by the way. Totally ruined my mood.”

He let out a few groans and he tried to look away, but couldn’t seem to.

Annoyed, Jimin had enough. He reached out his hand and choked the man, gritting his teeth. “Move your fucking car.”

The man was confused, he hasn’t parked anywhere. He realized that it wasn’t a car he was talking about. It was the action he did. Doom. He brought doom on peoples lives and well, that was jimin’s job.

He choked him still, the man’s hands coming to grasp onto Jimin’s pleading to let go.

“See, doom isn’t your job. It’s mine. You were completely careless.” He hissed, wiping his eyebrow with his free hand.

A smile dawned on his face. “So I’m gonna be just as careless.”

The man grabbed onto Jimin’s white coat, blood smearing onto it. “I’m going to make you pay for taking my parking place.” He nearly growled, and focused his attention to the man’s neck wound, healing it as he groaned in pain. He didn’t deserve to die. To get away with what he did.

The man let go of his grip on Jimin when he realized he had been healed, and stared up at him in shock, holding onto his neck and panicking.

Jimin smirked, and turned around as if to walk away, but had a sudden thought.

“Ah, one more thing.” Jimin said, turning around to face the man, who was clutching his neck. “There’s something that’s much more dreadful than doom.”

Silence took over the space they were in, the man still gasping for air and Jimin having his arms crossed over his chest with a smile.

“Life.”

At that, he abruptly turned and was about to leave, when the police moved the curtain. “We’re the police.”

Smirking, Jimin looked over at the criminal.

The criminal groans and cried, watching Jimin fade from his view, his smirk never ceasing.

He walked away, proudly, leaving the police behind to do the justice.

No one gets away with taking his job.

No one.

On a balcony of the hospital, a tall man stood, overlooking the view of the city. He wore hospital clothes, and slippers that seemed to be too small for him. As he heard footsteps nearing him, he knew who it was. “You’re here?”

“What are you doing?” Jimin asked him, walking up next to him to overlook as well.

He looked over at him, noticing the large blood stain obviously visible on the white coat. “You could’ve at least changed.”

Jimin huffed. “I didn’t so I could show you it.”

He then hit himself in the spot where the blood was, and it began to disappear as if it was never there. “Some kind of god you are.” He muttered, leaning up against the balcony’s railing. “Are to tired of this hospital life, too? You have the whole world in your hands.”

The man scoffed, running his hand through his shortly cropped brown hair. “You try being sick.”

“There you go again, acting all pitiful.” Jimin smiled, looking towards him.

They both looked out to the skyline, where the sun was nearly setting. The sky had a bit of and orange hue to it, reflecting against the buildings.

“I feel like a gardener.” Namjoon smirked, still looking away from Jimin. “I’m always planting and watering. Wishing it will all grow.”

He then turned to Jimin. “But not all of them sprout. And some that do, can be poisonous plants. Some medicinal herbs. Who knows.”

He was talking about the earth. Joon was a god. He was the reason Jimin existed. It felt strange that his fate was all because of him.

“But..” Joon carried off, turning away. “The garden doesn’t belong to the gardener.”

Catching him off guard, Jimin furrowed his eyebrows. “Then what am I? In this garden of yours.” He asked him seriously, hoping to get some kind of assurance that he wasn’t only living to bring doom to the world.

“You’re a butterfly.” Namjoon said, smiling.

Jimin scoffed. “Until when? How long will I be a butterfly?”

He was inderectly asking how long will he have to live as a death-bringer. A walking ticking time bomb that was never able to live amongst human kind, only to watch destruction that was brought upon by him. He didn’t even mean to do the things he did most of the time, and unhappiness just occurred around him. It was like the would would drain if color just by the sight of him.

Namjoon stared at Jimin, tilting his head. “Forever.” He sinfully smiled, noticing Jimin’s frown as he said it.

Jimin scoffed again. “Damn man, you’re so cruel. Even on someone’s birthday.”

Joon’s happy demeanor shifted. “Birthday? Someone?” He shook his head. “Since when were you born? You were never born. And you were never a human, so how could you be someone?”

Jimin felt his heart crack a bit. He shouldn’t be upset about that statement, but he was. He silently looked at Joon, waiting for him to keep going.

Joon just sighed, and rested his elbows on the railing. “Go, be someone’s wish today. It’s the only day you could do it.”

“Even my birthday isn’t for me.” He said, bitterly, and feeling bitter as well. He just wanted to have a purpose in life, and not it being doom. Destruction. Pain. Irritation.

“It’s for the humans.” Joon smiled.

Jimin rolled his eyes. “Those damn flowers.”

Humans were the only reason of his existence. And he wanted it to be over. He didn’t want to live anymore, especially with the way he was living. The only way he could cease to exist was if the humans did, too.

They both stood there quietly, looking over the world as if it’s in the palm of their hands.

#bts #bangtan sonyeondan #park jimin #doom at your service #based on movies #jimin x you #jimin x reader #bts smau

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captainstarkky · 3 years

Note

In ep13 in DAYS, Why do you think TDK was dreaming of MM crying? There has to be a reason right? How can she see a possible future?

Hello!

So, let me tell you in advance, although I work in the discipline of psychology, dream analysis is never my cup of tea (lol) simply because most of its meaning changes overtime.

But either way, since we are here let's do this!

On my short analysis of Episode 13, I gave a bit of what I thought was the reason of TDK dreaming of MM. You can check it here.

But I think I got to elaborate on some parts - since it's short and kind of very straightforward and confusing.

In there, I explained that dreaming of death actually means having a hard time coping up with changes. The thing is that, that change isn't encompassed by whatever we think change is. It actually is the literal change - yes, the one that is constant: change.

TDK does seem to experience a lot of changes throughout the episode doesn't she? She was diagnosed with an aggressive brain cancer (1), then she discovered that her boyfriend was already married (2), her boss was a sexist that always pointed out the disadvantage of her being a woman, a weirdo showing up to her doorstep (Myul Mang), discovering that this weirdo is actually a supernatural being that is the personification of death himself, entering a contract with him, and finally, probably the biggest, is when her memories were all wiped out - leaving her back to zero before meeting Myul Mang.

Of everything mentioned above, she was able to cope up because she had Myul Mang by her side. But what if we remove MM from the story? It's obvious that her mind wouldn't be able to handle the stress. But she got her family with her. That is the point. Instead of being comforted, I bet she feels even more burdened. She can't talk to anyone how she really feels. She can't easily confide to anyone if she feels scared or what. It was way too different when MM was around.

(He might have a nasty personality, but MM really helped TDK cope with accepting her own demise - and now he's gone from her memory)

Take note that she have a reason why she did it. She had a reason and her reason is that (1) she doesn't want him to feel pain when she's gone; and (2) she already knew what he was planning to do and she doesn't want him to disappear -which he eventually did in Episode 14.

Because of this too much things that are happening in her head - plus the unexpected return of MM in her life, it's inevitable that she would experience a great deal of anxiety and stress. And most of these, if not channeled out of the body could manifest themselves as dreams.

Now we're here. Answering a question on why did she dream about MM crying over her funeral.

So let's lay down the things we know before that scene happened.

Flash back, TDK had her memories of MM wiped out; it was together with their initial contract.

TDK met MM in the most unexpected way at the parking lot.

They talked and we realized that the contact was void when we heard her thoughts - he was not supposed to.

Then they renewed the contract.

MM got very curious about TDK after renewing the contract because Sonyeonshin told him that she did not do anything to him but to TDK.

He asked questions - basically interrogated her.

He saw his phone, then probably asked himself "why does he have a phone and why is the wallpaper of my phone a picture of me and that TDK?" It made him a lot more piqued.

Then TDK was informed that after the biopsy, a portion of her hair would be shaved and her hair would start falling down as the chemo and rad therapy starts. So she was advised to shave it off while she still have time.

She went solo. She went to a saloon and styled her hair before asking the stylist to shave her head off.

But even before that happened, her nose bled and she slightly panicked when the stylist panicked; as she was standing up, she suddenly had a dizziness attack and stumbled. MM caught her as she was falling and he brought her back to the hospital.

Now the dream. Okay, if you've read my short interpretation of it then the explanation of the dream should be OK already. As for "why he dreamt of MM specifically?"

Well, in a scientific point of view, it's easy. It's not that she wanted to see MM. It is because MM was the last person she saw. But that is just too boring, tbh. So let's get haphazard and explain it with fun.

I think, her dreaming of MM, is an indication that her mind is trying to piece out together specific events that would possibly happen. It's not foreseeing, dreams oftentimes don't do that - unless you're a psychic. It's an imagination on what could happen given the facts. MM could be a representation of the great deal of people that would mourn her death - now, why not any from her family? Why specifically MM? Because of either: (1) he's the last person she saw. The closest her brain could describe as 'most human', that is. (2) her brain was closely piecing up information about 'someone' and he fit the bill; (3) she's also equally curious of MM that's why her brain was trying to personify him in her subconscious, now using him as the 'model'; (4) Sometimes, the person you see in your dream is a reflection of what you really feels inside. In my own analysis, Sa-ram in her dream is a reflection of what she really feels inside - sad, sorry, and pity to herself that she would die and she cannot do anything.

Could either of the four. Or: (5) even if she forgot about him, his existence has already been engraved in her system. And by the time he popped out in front of her again, it allowed her brain to see a discrepancy on the system and as it tried to bring back the memories she lost, it brought back the thought of MM crying in front of her memorial. That's the power of curiosity. That is also the reason why most amnestic patients have very vivid dreams - their brain is trying to establish a connection of the severed memories.

And for the record, she did not see a possible future. It was her head making up illusions of what could happen in the future given the facts that she knew. Some of the facts that she knew that probably lead to that dream:

She's dying.

She's supposed to die.

This man (MM) is weird, and he's the last guy I saw.

"He's probably no-one but why does he pop out everywhere I go?"

Bonus information from my theory:

Why did she apologize to MM?

She apologized to MM because she saw him crying. And that's because of her funeral for sure.

Because her brain now recognizes MM as the model of the people who would mourn for her, she apologizes to him.

Because most of the dreams are ambiguous, there is a fictional/conspiracy theory that could say that MM in the dream represents TDK's state of mind. She's not coping up with the change she's been to and she was struggling in trying to connect the dots. She's curious of MM but she can't remember who he is. So she was apologizing.

She was apologizing to herself for literally throwing her happiness away. And even is she forgot who Sa-ram is, she knew that she’s unconsciously longing for him. But she can't remember him - so she was apologizing to him.

Why did she apologize to the real world MM?

It was a brief hallucination - a normal hallucination when a person is asleep. It was her still trying to apologize to the made up MM in her brain, without her knowing that she was really apologizing to the real MM.

It could be that even before MM came inside the room, she was already sleep talking: "I'm sorry." It's just that, coincidentally, he was there, holding her hand and since she saw him in her dream, she unconsciously apologized to him too.

By the way, if a nurse was there, she would've done the same. Scientifically, she was still asleep and not awake. She was in the period of transitional state of consciousness between wakefulness and sleep - so technically she was still not on her 100% wakefulness.

I hope I made sense. Lol. It's just, there are a lot of theories popping out and I'm sure most of them are deviating from one another. This is just my opinion of what was happening and others might have different opinions as well. I just hope I laid mine well enough to be understood.

Thank you for asking, doommate!

#doom at your service #tvn doom at your service #kdrama #kdrama opinions #kdrama theories #seo in guk #park bo young #park bo-young #seo in-guk #tak dong kyung #tak dongkyung #myul mang #tvn #DAYS #doommates

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missnoodliness · 3 years

Text

A Case of the Very Unthrifty Puppy

I have been thinking about this case, despite it having ended several months ago. It still eats at me, so I considered not posting about it at all. Puppies and kittens are not all smiles and joy in a veterinary office, much to the surprise of the general public.

Lucy came to us as a puppy for her initial set of vaccinations and the owners noted that she had soft stool. She was routinely dewormed and vaccinated.

Throughout her puppy series of vaccines, the consistency of her stool never improved. Her littermates of her sex were close to 40 lbs. while Lucy weighed in at under 8 lbs. She was skeletally thin, her limbs proportionate, her hair coat rough. Out of context, you would have thought she was an abuse/neglect case. Her fecal consistency ranged from watery to pudding consistency daily. Her appetite was poor, though her owners reported that she played at home.

She was tested for Giardia, intestinal parasites both in-house and sent to reference laboratories. We tested her for pancreatitis, B-12 deficiencies, folate abnormalities, pancreatic enzyme deficiencies. We dewormed this puppy multiple times with broad-spectrum dewormers. Pre and probiotics made no difference, antibiotics made no difference. We supplemented her with parenteral B-12, anti-diarrheal medications.

Eventually when I had run the gambit on bloodwork, x-rays that I was able to do in-house for this sad puppy, we referred her to an internal medicine specialist. With an abdominal ultrasound and intestinal biopsies, all that was found was eosinophilic inflammation throughout her small intestine and stomach which was interpreted as inflammatory bowel disease. The internist began Lucy on a dose of prednisone that was immunosuppressive. The steroid helped her stool a little, but it never became formed, but was not watery. It also helped her appetite some.

So, I set out to a forum of veterinarians and specialists online to try and help this poor puppy because I felt that I had run out of ideas, run out of plans for her. We were making no headway, no weight gain for her. We switched her to a hydrolyzed diet, but she had no interest in it and had to be put on appetite stimulants. I wanted to test her for congenital Addison’s disease (a lack of steroid production within the body), but the owners could never wean her off the prednisone for me to test her.

Lucy continued to struggle and consulting with specialists had given me more ideas, but I could not make the puppy eat the food they recommended, nor could I make the owners compliant with staying off of steroids in order to do additional diagnostics. When Lucy was 11 months old, her littermates were weighing close to 50 lbs and she never managed to beak 8 lbs. She stopped feeling playful at home, she had no appetite even with medication to help, her stools were never normal and never had form to them. Her owners had become financially restricted and could not pursue a second opinion referral after their first one.

They asked me to evaluate Lucy and asked me what I would do if Lucy were mine. I hate that question most of the time because while I have usually seen similar cases, I am never in my client’s shoes. I do not have their house payments, their debt, their children, their own health issues, their employment status, or their life experiences. I told them what that what they needed to keep in mind was her quality of life, not her quantity of life. I asked them to consider what her favorite things to do were, did they see signs of pain at home, to think about what her future may look like because with the diagnostics so far, the tentative diagnosis and treatment were not improving her physical condition.

Perhaps a week later, about 2 weeks before Lucy would have been 1 year old, her owners elected humane euthanasia. I have never faulted them for this decision. Their puppy was suffering and they were suffering just trying to keep her going. They asked me if they should do a necropsy, what was involved in it, if they should spend the money to try and get an answer. I told them it may not give them an answer, that necropsy does not always reveal the underlying pathology. Ultimately, they elected not to pursue necropsy and had her privately cremated.

This case was one where I felt like I pulled out all the stops, did everything I could think of, referred as soon as the owners were on board with it, and when that got us nowhere, I turned to a forum of experts. Even then, it felt like I failed this puppy, like I failed their family. I will never know what the true underlying disease was or if I could have even fixed it. My boss still tells me that we did everything we could within our means and the clients’ limitations, but I can tell you that it still eats at me. I do not know that it will ever go away.

#vetblr #veterinarian #vet med #veterinary medicine #failure to thrive #death #animal death #euthanasia #me feeling like a huge failure but maybe not deserving it #being a fresh veterinarian makes you second guess everything you do #makes you feel like when things dont work out it's your fault #even when it's not #it took a really long time for me to write this because I started crying again #2020 case

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suituuup · 4 years

Text

clouds

Prompt: After finding out she has Stage II breast cancer, Beca gets started with chemo. She never expected she’d make a friend there, much less a kid.

rating: M

word count: 5,4k

ao3 link

“All done,” the nurse chirps as she takes out the needle and presses a wad of cotton to the small puncture spot. “You’ll have to wait an hour or so for the lab results to come back before they set you up for chemo.”

“Okay,” Beca mumbles, lowering her sweater sleeve and standing from the cot. She thanks the nurse and shuffles out of the room and towards the elevator that will take her up to the right floor.

A month ago, Beca found out she had breast cancer. She had just got back from tour and was on her annual gynecology check-up where the doctor felt a lump in her left breast. She referred Beca to a specialist and, following a mammogram and a biopsy, Beca was diagnosed with Stage II breast cancer.

Her whole universe as she knew it shifted on its axis. While her chances of survival were pretty high at that stage, she knew treatment would momentarily change her daily life, and that the few months ahead would be an emotional whirlwind.

Beca got set up just over an hour later on a reclining chair on the infusion floor. She had packed a bag with everything she would need: snacks, a blanket, water, and her computer and headphones so she could get some work done.

The nurse soon came over to start an IV, Beca wincing as the needle pierced her skin. “Alright, you’re all set. Call me if you need anything.”

“Thanks.”

She closes her eyes and puffs out a long breath, willing herself to relax.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay on your own?”

Beca opens her eyes to find a little girl, no older than ten or eleven, climbing in the chair next to hers. Her mom, Beca supposes from the matching hair color, crouches in front of her.

“Yes, mom. I already told you I’ll be okay.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be back in half an hour.” The woman kisses the girl’s forehead, shrugging off the Wonder Woman backpack and setting it on her daughter’s lap. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” As soon as her mother turns away to leave the room, her curious blue eyes find Beca. “You’re new.”

Beca puffs out a surprised chuckle. “I am, yeah.”

A small hand is thrust towards her. “I’m Maddie.”

Beca shakes her hand lightly. “Hi Maddie, my name’s Beca.”

“Nice meeting you.” She opens her backpack just as the nurse heads towards her. “Hi Jenny.”

“Hello Maddie. How are we doing today?”

“I’m okay, thanks. Mommy and I are going to eat ice cream afterwards.” She rolls up her sleeve and extends her arm, barely flinching as the nurse pushes the needle in.

Beca realizes with a painful pang in her chest that it’s definitely not her first time getting chemo.

“Lucky you,” the nurse gushes, taping the IV tube to her arm. “All done, sweetie. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Thanks, Jenny.”

Beca glances away, her eyes drifting to her own IV bag. It’s strange to think about how what’s supposed to kill the cancer is also killing every good cell in her body. Soon she’ll be losing her hair and—

“Who’s your favorite singer?”

Beca is pulled out of her thoughts by that same girl — Maddie. An amused smile curves her lips. “Um, I like a lot of singers, but I guess my top 3 is Fleetwood Mac, Harry Styles and Beyoncé.”

“My mom loves Fleetwood Mac,” she says. “Mine’s Shawn Mendes.”

Beca nods. “He’s a cool guy.”

Those striking blue eyes widen. “You’ve met him??”

Beca has worked with him on his last album and he’s become a good friend, but she wants to keep a low profile, so she shakes her head. “No, I mean— he seems like a cool guy.”

“Oh. Yeah. I was supposed to go see him live last year but I wasn’t healthy enough.”

Beca’s heart cracks a little bit at that. “That sucks, I’m sorry.”

Maddie shrugs. “It’s okay. Do you know how to play Backgammon?”

Beca lets out another chuckle. She hadn’t expected to meet anyone here, much less a kid (she’s not a kid person), but she has to admit it’s a nice distraction from her spiraling thoughts. “No, but maybe you could teach me?”

The next two hours go much faster than Beca initially expected, thanks to Maddie’s company. Her mom —Chloe, as she introduces herself— comes back half an hour in, but she seems content reading her book while Beca and Maddie play.

“Yes!” Maddie exclaims when she —once again— wins that round.

“Well done, dude. I’ll do better next time.”

“You wanna come eat an ice cream with us?” She asks as the nurse takes Beca’s IV out.

Beca already feels tired and nauseous, so she declines, shaking her head. “Thanks, but I’m gonna head home. It was cool hanging out with you, though.”

“You, too. See you next time!”

Beca nods, casting her mother a polite smile as she gathers her stuff and stands up. “Bye.”

The first effects of chemo hit her for real a couple hours afterwards. Exhaustion like she’s never experienced creeps on her right before dinner (she’s not really hungry anyway), and she crashes for thirteen hours, waking up with the urge to throw up. Her day is spent wallowing on her couch when she’s not bent over the toilet, weaving in and out of sleep while the sitcom channel fills the silence of her empty apartment.

It lasts two days, and Beca starts feeling better on the third, which happens to be her second chemo session. Maddie and her mom are already there when she gets to the room, and she casts them both a wave and a tired smile before sitting down in the same seat as last time.

“Hi Beca!” Maddie exclaims, grinning brightly.

“Hey dude. Ready to kick my butt at Backgammon again?”

“Yep!” She turns to her mom a second later. “Mommy I have to pee.”

“Oh go quick then, before the nurse starts you on your IV.” Maddie scampers off towards the bathroom, and Chloe’s eyes flicker to Beca, a sympathetic smile spreading on her features. “How are you holding up?”

Beca grimaces. “The last two days have been pretty awful, I’m hoping it won’t get as bad after each session.”

“Yeah… it’s rough.”

“How long-- um, has she been in chemo long?” She asks hesitantly.

“It’s our second round this time around,” Chloe says softly, the pain evident in her eyes. “She was diagnosed with leukemia three years ago, and it’s been an emotional roller coaster since then. Two remissions, yet here we are again.”

Beca’s eyes widen. “Wow... I’m so sorry.”

“She’s a fighter. Much braver than I could ever be. Always has a smile on her face.”

Maddie comes back before Beca can say anything else, hopping back on her chair. Beca manages to win two rounds out of ten this time, and she crashes in her bed as soon as she gets home.

The next few weeks are a blur, as Beca doesn’t do much except going to the hospital three times a week for chemo and sleeping it off. She misses work, and going out with her friends, but she doesn’t have the energy to leave the house. She’s thankful for Stacie and Emily, who regularly come to check on her and even go grocery shopping for her.

Four weeks after beginning her treatment, Beca’s hair starts to fall off. She knew it would happen, but she didn’t think it would hit her so hard emotionally. She loses weight, too, and her complexion is much paler.

Maddie’s high spirits are a nice distraction every time she’s at the hospital. They play games, listen to music, and even grab ice cream once or twice with her mom when Beca feels okay enough not to head straight home.

On her last day of chemo, Beca is surprised to see Maddie isn’t there. “Is her treatment over?” She asks Jenny as the nurse sets her up for her infusion.

Jenny shakes her head. “She was admitted last night.”

Beca’s heart squeezes in her chest, and she swallows down the rising lump in her throat. “Do you know if she’s allowed visitors?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll check for you.”

After her session, Beca heads to the oncology floor and asks for Maddie’s room at the reception. She heads down the hall, turning the corner and lingering in the doorway.

Maddie looks so small in her hospital bed, her complexion as pale as the white walls. An oxygen mask covers her mouth and nose, a wheezing sound filling the room every time she breathes. Chloe’s the first to notice Beca as she sits by her daughter’s side, stroking her hair.

“Sorry, I wasn’t sure-- I can go,” Beca murmurs, feeling suddenly out of place.

“It’s okay,” Chloe croaks out, waving her in. Her eyes are bloodshot and her features scream exhaustion and despair, and Beca’s heart clenches yet again.

Maddie finally notices her, a tired smile spreading across her lips. “Hi.”

“Hey dude,” Beca greets with a soft smile, lowering herself on the opposite chair because her legs feel weakened by the chemo. “Missed you today.”

“Did you ring the bell?”

Beca nods. “I did.”

“Sorry I wasn’t there.”

“It’s okay, Maddie. I’m sorry you’re not feeling good. I was thinking-- would you like to listen to some cool music? I used to mix songs together when I was in college and nobody really ever listened to them, so you’re privileged.”

Maddie grins and nods, taking the earbud Beca offers her.

She sticks around for half-an-hour, giving Chloe time to use the restroom and grab a coffee while she keeps Maddie company. As she walks out of the hospital, Beca pulls out her phone and brings it to her ear after selecting the right contact.

“Hey. I need a favor.”

Two days later, Beca finds herself heading back to the oncology floor. She knocks on Maddie’s open door, relieved to see her sitting up and looking overall better than she did on Beca’s last visit.

“Beca!” She exclaims, grinning widely.

“Hey you.” Her gaze flickers to Chloe, who too looks better. “Hey Chloe.”

“Hi Beca. Thanks for stopping by,” Chloe says with a soft smile.

“I’m not alone, actually,” she lets them know, craning her neck towards the door to signal for her guest to come in.

Maddie gasps loudly, her eyes widening to the side of saucers. “Oh my god!”

“Hey Maddie,” Shawn greets, grinning as he steps further inside. He’s got his guitar slung across his back. “How are you doing?”

Maddie stutters, pulling a chuckle out of the three adults in the room. “Hi,” she eventually croaks out. “You’re Shawn Mendes. And you’re here. In my room.”

Shawn lets out a soft laugh. “Beca told me you were meant to come see one of my shows last year but couldn’t make it because of your health, so here I am.”

Maddie gapes, her gaze flicking back and forth between Shawn and Beca. “Mom, I think I need to be pinched.”

“It’s all real, baby,” Chloe confirma, brushing a kiss to Maddie’s forehead. As Shawn gets settled in the chair by Maddie’s bed and fiddles with his guitar, she meets Beca’s eyes and mouths a thank you.

Maddie has the biggest smile on her face for the following hour. Shawn plays her favorite songs, signs an autograph and they snap a ton of pictures together. Beca goes home with the biggest smile on her face as well, thrilled to have been able to make Maddie forget about her disease even for a short while.

Beca goes back to work the following Monday as the chemo after effects have considerably lessened over the weekend. She’s still more tired than usual, but she feels like she can get some work done. On her way back home, she swings by the hospital to visit Maddie.

She hangs out with her every evening after work for an hour, right before Maddie’s dinner is served. They talk about music and Beca brings her guitar because Maddie says she’s been wanting to learn.

“Good job,” Beca says as Maddie successfully strums through her first song. “You’re really talented.”

Maddie grins. “Thanks for the class.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll leave the guitar here if you wanna practice some more during the day, okay?”

Maddie nods. “Are you coming back tomorrow?”

“You bet.”

She’s reached the elevators when she hears her name being called, and spins around on her heels to find Chloe heading towards her.

“I just wanted to thank you, for everything. Bringing Shawn Mendes here, giving her guitar lessons... “ Chloe sighs. “She doesn’t have many friends because she hasn’t been to school much and it’s nice for her to see other people than her lame mom all the time.”

Beca smiles, shaking her head. “You don’t have to thank me. She’s a great kid, and I genuinely enjoy spending time with her. She made chemo a lot more fun than I thought it would be.”

“I’m glad,” Chloe murmurs. “Do you… wanna grab coffee, maybe? Maddie kicked me out, telling me I should take a hospital break.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, great. I’ll go grab my coat.”

They head to the Starbucks around the block as the coffee from the cafeteria sucks, settling at a small table in the corner. Beca orders a decaf and Chloe a hot chocolate.

“How are you now that you’re done with chemo?” Chloe asks before blowing on her drink and taking a sip.

“I’m okay. No more side effects except tiredness, but I’m glad to finally be able to work.”

“That’s good.”

“Maddie seems to be doing better?”

Chloe nods as she cradles her mug. “Her test results have improved. I’m hoping she can be home for Christmas. She’s spent the holidays at the hospital last year and as much as the nurses and doctors do their best to make it merry, it’s just not the same.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.” Beca hesitates for a beat. “Is it… just the two of you?”

“Yeah. Her dad never wanted to be in the picture.”

Beca’s eyes soften. “That must be tough, doing everything on your own.”

“Some days are hard. I’m just-- so fucking tired,” her voice cracks and tears rapidly fill her eyes. She ducks her head. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Beca rushes out, covering Chloe’s hand across the table before she can think twice about it. “It’s okay to cry. You’re stronger than you think, and you’re an incredible mom, Chloe.”

“I’m terrified of losing her,” she whispers, those tears spilling down her cheeks. “She’s my whole life, and she doesn’t deserve any of this.”

Beca doesn’t know what to say; no words seem powerful enough to alleviate Chloe’s pain. She squeezes Chloe’s hand, brushing her thumb over her knuckles back and forth. “No, she doesn’t.”

“Gosh, I’m really sorry,” Chloe sniffles after a moment, puffing out a breath. “I guess I needed a good cry and you’re my victim.”

“It really is okay, Chloe. Anytime you need to talk, I’m here, okay?”

Chloe flips her hand up, wrapping her fingers around Beca’s. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

As the next few weeks go by, Beca’s hair starts to grow back (she still wears a headscarf, and will do so until it thickens out), and her energy levels rise back to normal. Work gets busier but she tries to visit Maddie three times a week, usually going out for coffee with Chloe once out of those three times. They text a lot too throughout the week, sending each other memes or cute animal videos.

Beca finds herself quickly developing a crush on Chloe over their sometimes hour-long conversations about their respective lives, charmed by her sunny personality, goofy sense of humor and both interior and exterior beauty. But she knows better than to do anything about her attraction, as Chloe is most likely not in any place to date right now, if she’s even into women at all.

Maddie is allowed to spend Christmas at home, and Chloe asks Beca if she wants to spend it with them as she knows Beca doesn’t have anything specific planned. They spend the afternoon leading up to Christmas Eve building gingerbread houses and baking cookies while belting out Christmas tunes.

(as if Beca needed anything else to fuel that crush of hers, it turns out Chloe sings beautifully.)

They eat a meal of Maddie’s choice --homemade burgers and fries-- and watch The Beauty and the Beast.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Chloe tells her as she makes it back down after tucking Maddie in for the night. Beca started cleaning up in the meantime, having just finished up.

“I know. It’s no big deal.”

“Want another glass of wine?” Chloe asks, lifting the open bottle off the kitchen island.

Beca should head home, but Chloe’s place is much warmer and cozier than her own and she loves hanging out there. She also can’t resist the opportunity of spending more quality time with Chloe. “Sure, why not.”

“Tonight was really fun,” Chloe muses aloud as they settle back down on the couch, facing one another. “I’m so happy Maddie got to have a real Christmas this year.”

“Me, too,” Beca murmurs. “It was really nice. And that’s coming from someone who’s not that into the holidays, so kudos to you.”

Chloe throws her arms up in the air. “Yay! I did it!”

“You’re a dork,” Beca says, a smirk curving her lips as she shakes her head. “Ugh, I’ve got All I Want For Christmas Is You stuck in my head, thanks to somebody.”

“It’s a good song!”

Beca rolls her eyes. “It’s cheesy as fuck, dude.”

Chloe’s giggle makes her heart swell. “Okay, it’s a little bit cheesy. So is the movie.”

“Never seen it.”

A judgemental gasp fills the space between them before Chloe backs away. “You’ve never seen Love Actually?”

Beca purses her lips. “Are you gonna kick me out if I say yes?”

Chloe’s up from the couch before she can blink. “We’re watching it now.”

Beca’s about to protest, but she realizes it’s only 9:30pm and she doesn’t have to go to work tomorrow. “Fine.”

Chloe sets it up on Netflix and grabs a blanket, throwing it over her laps as she settles back down. Beca nearly forgets how to breathe when Chloe curls up against her, draping an arm over her waist. She frees her arm from in between their bodies and wraps it around Chloe’s frame, pulling her closer as the opening credits roll.

“Keira Knightley was my first girl crush,” Chloe states moments later as the actress makes her first appearance on the screen. “Pirates of the Caribbean.”

“Haven’t seen it either.”

“Oh my god,” Chloe laughs, lifting her head from Beca’s shoulder to look at her. “You’re missing out.”

“Mmm,” Beca hums, her eyes momentarily dropping to Chloe’s lips before she can really help herself. She forces them back up to find Chloe’s own gaze on her mouth and, following a beat of hesitation, reaches up to cup her cheek tenderly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips.

Chloe melts into it, her own hand coming up to rest on the side of Beca’s neck as she kisses back in kind. Time seems to suspend as they explore in soft brushes and nips, their bubble bursting when Chloe abruptly pulls away.

“I’m— I’m sorry,” she whispers, covering her mouth with her hand. “You don’t want that.”

Beca blinks, furrowing her brow. “What?”

“You deserve someone that can be all in, not…” she waves a hand towards herself. “Not this mess. My life is so complicated right now.”

“I know,” Beca says softly, covering Chloe’s hand with her own. “I know your sole focus is Madison, and I’d never hold your lack of time for me against you. I honestly— didn’t even think you’d feel the same way.”

Chloe’s eyes flutter shut for a few beats. “I like you a lot, Beca. I just… can’t promise you more than day to day right now.”

“We can do day to day,” Beca murmurs reassuringly. “There’s no pressure on my end, alright?”

Chloe contemplates it for a moment. “Okay.” She leans in to kiss Beca gently, resting her forehead against hers. “Okay.”

They fall asleep in front of the movie, eventually shuffling up to Chloe’s bedroom around midnight as Chloe states it’s too late for Beca to head home.

Come morning, Beca takes care of breakfast while a nurse stops by to take Maddie’s vitals and do some injections. They open presents next as Maddie is too excited to wait until after breakfast. Beca got her a few books and a VIP ticket to Ariana Grande’s next show in a couple weeks. She got Chloe a full day spa package for whenever she’d like, insisting she could spend the day with Maddie.

“For you,” Maddie says, extending a small package towards Beca.

“You didn’t have to get me anything, dude.” She takes the gift nonetheless, opening it to find a rainbow themed friendship bracelet. Beca grins, taking it out. “I love it. Never taking it off.”

The New Year brings good news: Maddie’s health improves enough that she’s discharged from the hospital, and Beca is clear from any cancer, the chemotherapy having worked tremendously. They celebrate Maddie coming home and Beca being cancer free around a homemade dinner at Chloe’s house.

“Are you guys together?” Maddie blurts out halfway through dinner, causing Beca to nearly choke on her piece of bread.

She and Chloe haven’t engaged in any sort of PDA around Maddie as Chloe wants to take it slow, but something must have given them away.

Maybe the heart eyes Beca gives Chloe on a daily basis.

She briefly meets Chloe’s gaze before Chloe focuses on her daughter, a soft, albeit slight nervous smile curving her lips. “We are, yeah. Is that okay?”

Maddie nods. “You look happy, Mommy.”

Beca feels her heart swell, and as Maddie goes back to her food, she leans across the distance between herself and Chloe to kiss her cheek.

Something tells her this is going to be a great year.

Over the following months, she, Chloe and Maddie do plenty of activities together now that Maddie is healthy enough. They go ice skating, attend concerts, bake, have movie marathons. Beca falls so quickly in love with Chloe, it’s kind of scary.

They’re even talking about moving in together when Maddie relapses.

She’s admitted into the ICU after contracting pneumonia, and the tests show that her number of white blood cells is higher than it’s ever been.

“Where’s Mommy?” Maddie asks tiredly, twisting her head to look at Beca.

It’s been a week, and the light has already left Maddie’s eyes.

Chloe hasn’t gotten much sleep over the last few days, afraid that Maddie might pass during the night, on her own.

“She went to the bathroom, sweetie. Want me to go get her?”

When Maddie nods, Beca shakily rises to her feet and swallows down the lump in her throat as she leans over to press a kiss to Maddie’s forehead.

Beca doesn’t step back inside Maddie’s room once Chloe is in there, preferring to give them privacy. She calls for a nurse, then sits down on a chair in the hallway, tears silently sliding down her cheeks when Chloe starts to sing.

Her heart crumbles when the song doesn’t make it to the end, sobs filling Maddie’s hospital room instead. She hears the doctor pronounce the time of death, and the machines stop.

Night has fallen over the city by the time Beca finds the courage to step inside. Chloe is curled up on the bed next to Maddie’s lifeless body, and Beca freezes in the doorway, feeling absolutely powerless against Chloe’s immense grief.

“Her skin is still warm,” Chloe croaks out after a minute, her gaze blank as she strokes Maddie’s short hair back and forth.

Beca pads forward slowly, tears burning her eyes as she lowers herself on the chair Chloe previously occupied and covers her free hand with her own.

“I can’t let them take her away. It’s too soon, I-I can’t.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Beca whispers, her voice nowhere within reach. “Take all the time you need, they won’t take her away until you’re ready.”

Chloe’s parents, whom Beca has met a couple times over the previous week arrive only a few minutes later, and Beca suddenly feels out of place.

She quietly slips out of the room to let them say goodbye to Maddie in peace.

Madison’s funeral takes place five days later. It’s a beautiful day, graced with unexpected warmth for the season. Beca stands a couple rows behind Chloe’s family. She helps Chloe’s parents out during the wake following the ceremony, setting out the food and washing the dishes.

As people shuffle out at the end of the afternoon, Beca is unsure what to do. She’s wiping the last of the dishes when Aubrey, Chloe’s best friend, rounds the corner to the kitchen.

“Thank you for your help today,” she says with a nod. “I’ll finish up here.”

Beca gets the message that she’s not needed anymore and nods, setting the dish towel down. “Oh. Right, okay.”

She gathers her coat and purse and sees that Chloe is speaking to her parents on her way out, and as she doesn’t want to intrude, steps out without a word.

“Beca.” She turns around halfway down the driveway to find Chloe closing the front door of her house behind her. “You don’t have to leave.”

“Well, um, you’re with your family and...” she falters, shrugging. “I just didn’t want to intrude.”

She hates how it sounds like she’s making this about herself when it’s the last thing she wants to do.

“Can you stay?” Chloe croaks out. “I’d really like it if you stayed.”

“Of course,” she murmurs without an ounce of hesitation, taking a few steps forward and wrapping her arms around Chloe. Chloe melts into her body, releasing a shuddering breath. “I’ve got you, Chlo.”

The next days, weeks, months are extremely hard for Chloe, and Beca helps in whatever way she can. While she can’t make Chloe’s grief less intense, as much as she wants to, she can take care of things that will make her daily life easier, like taking care of the administrative paperwork following Maddie’s funeral, sending out thank-you notes, making dinner, cleaning and just being there for her.

She holds Chloe when she cries, even if it happens in the middle of the night, gives her space when she needs some, listens to her when she needs to talk about Maddie, even if it’s a story she’s already heard.

“Chlo?” Beca asks upon coming home one evening, about four months after Maddie’s death. She’s been staying at Chloe’s house ever since, and while they haven’t really talked about it, Beca wants it to become a permanent installment, and she’s got the inkling Chloe feels the same way.

“In the kitchen,” Chloe’s voice carries to the entryway and, after taking her shoes off and tucking them away, Beca heads over to the kitchen, slipping her arms around Chloe’s waist.

“Hello,” she whispers with a content sigh, brushing a kiss to Chloe’s neck. “Missed you.”

“Missed you, too. How was your day?”

“Good.” She takes a step back and hops on the counter, watching Chloe cook for a moment. She hasn’t done that since before Maddie’s relapse and Beca takes it as one small step towards healing. “Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Chloe lowers the heat under her pot and steps in front of Beca. “What’s up?”

“A few months ago, I pitched the idea to Shawn about organizing a concert in memory of Maddie, where all proceeds would go to funding leukemia research.”

Chloe’s eyes get misty as she proceeds Beca’s words. “You did? What-what did he say?”

“He agreed. Now we need to work on finding a venue with a limited budget, but I wanted to make sure you were okay with the idea in the first place.”

Chloe slides her hand into Beca’s, squeezing it. “Of course I am. You’re amazing, you know that? I can’t begin to explain how grateful I am for you these past few months.”

Beca leans in to kiss her softly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Chloe backs away a little. “I also need to talk to you about something.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I can live here anymore. Everything I see reminds me of Maddie one way or another and it feels like I’m in a continuous loop of grief all day long. I wanna go back to work and— and find a new place to live, in a different neighborhood. With you, preferably.”

Beca smiles and nods, linking their fingers. “Okay, we can do that. Wanna start looking now?”

They find themselves a place in a quiet Brooklyn neighborhood and move in a month later. The concert for Maddie is sold out, and they raise close to $10,000 dollars for medical research. Almost a year after the funeral, Chloe asks Beca if she’d come with her to Oregon to spread Maddie’s ashes near her favorite beach.

They fly there the following weekend, and Chloe bids her daughter a final goodbye.

“Mommy loves you, baby girl,” she croaks as they watch the ashes being swept away by the wind towards the ocean.

Beca presses her lips to her hairline, holding her around the waist as tears burn behind her eyes.

She proposes to Chloe six months later, and they get married in Chloe’s parents’ backyard on a lovely fall day, in an intimate ceremony surrounded by their family and close friends. Two years into their marriage, Chloe brings up a topic Beca has been putting off for a little while.

That evening, Beca finds her wife on the couch with Maddie’s box opened in front of her. She’s flipping through Maddie’s baby book, a fond expression on her features.

“That was her first time tasting lemon,” she says when Beca lowers herself next to her, wrapping an arm around her frame as Chloe cuddles into her side.

“That’s adorable,” Beca comments with a soft smile, her eyes moving to the next picture as her fingers feather up and down Chloe’s upper arm.

Chloe’s been going down memory lane the past few days, opening up the box that contains all the things she wanted to keep: Maddie’s plush dinosaur, a few Mother’s Day gifts she’d made Chloe, her favorite children’s book and of course plenty of photo albums.

Her grief comes in waves. Beca knows the loss of her child is not something she’ll ever ‘move on’ from, or ‘get over’. The ache is still present, some days more suffocating than others, and Beca does her best to help her through those.

“Do you ever think about having kids?”

Chloe’s question makes Beca briefly pause in her motions. “I do, yeah. But it’s okay if that’s not something you’re ever ready for, I promise.”

“Up until a few months ago, I thought that having another one would come across as though I’m trying to replace Maddie and I felt guilty. But my therapist helped me through it and... I do want to have a baby with you someday.” Chloe glances up from the album, looking at Beca. “I think-- I think I might be ready, soon?”

“Okay.” Cupping Chloe’s cheek, Beca leans forward to brush a kiss to her lips. “I love you.”

Oliver Beale-Mitchell comes into the world a year and a half later, four days past his due date.

“Hello,” Chloe whispers as she walks back to Beca, carrying their swaddled newborn. She lowers herself on the side of the bed. “He’s so beautiful, Becs.”

A tired yet beaming smile spreads across Beca’s lips as she reaches out to run her thumb over his knuckles, leaning her head against Chloe’s shoulder. Her heart feels full. “Hi little man.” She glances up at Chloe. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Chloe croaks out, seemingly unable to tear her gaze away from their bundle of joy. She bends down to brush a kiss to his forehead. “Welcome to the world, Olliebear.”

#bechloe fic #bechloe

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