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ohtobeleah · 4 months

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Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Two: [Chemo & Charisma]

Summary: Jake arrives in Rhode Island to accompany his three kids back to Houston Texas the next morning. He expects it to be slightly awkward, but something he doesn’t expect is to be cryptically seduced by you—his ex wife.

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of Cancer Diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Separation. Marriage issues. Mentions of death. Minor smut (18+)

Word Count: 4.6k

Author Note: Thank you for all the love and support around this series so far. It truly has been an awesome experience getting to create this storyline with you all. I'm excited to see how you all react as the chapters come out. Your concepts, theories and reactions are truly making my December that much better.

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Turbulence…it can mean anything from a few little bumps to a catastrophic weather system that could knock your flying tin can right out of the air. In Surgery they call it a complication, the surgeons hit a snag, a bump in the road. Turbulence.

In your marriage, you called it Separation. One of the most unpredictable things about encountering turbulence is its aftermath. Everything’s been shaken up, undone, turned on its head. So you ask yourself time and time again, if you had the choice to avoid the plane crash, the turbulence altogether, would you take it? Would you play it safe and cancel the flight? Or would you get onboard and take your chances.

“Dad!” Little Lucy Seresin was just the spitting image of you and your grandmother. She was every bit you except for those big emerald green eyes. “Dad—!” You could see Jake making his way towards you and your three children through the crowd, all standing around your legs waiting for their father. The one who gave all three of your children those piercing emerald eyes that held what seemed like all the secrets in the universe. “Mum! Dads here! Dads here!”

“I see him sweetheart, there’s daddy.” You replied to your six year old, who, before you even had a chance to stop the only daughter of Jake Seresin, took off running across the crowded airport welcoming area towards her dad. You knew it had been far too long since Jake had been able to see his children, but you also knew it wasn't entirely his fault. The Navy was unpredictable as it was reliable.

“Hiya Lulu!” Jake smiled as wild as he could as he dropped to his knee to embrace the six year old human he’d helped create. “Oh I missed you sweetheart.” That much was true, Jake Seresin missed his kids every day that passed him by. You watched on with six year old Lennox by your side and two year old Samuel on your hip as Jake picked his daughter up and carried her back over to where you stood patiently waiting. “Lenny, how you going man?” Jake beamed as he tousled his eldest son's hair. “Far out kid, you shoot up any more and you’ll be taller than your mother.” You smiled at the dig unintentionally, before you knew you were smiling Jake had seen the corners of your lips turn upright into an unmissable smile.

“Mums says I’m growing like an inch a day because I eat all my green beans at dinner.” Jake took a moment to place Lucy back on solid ground before he came up back up to meet your gaze. It had been a few weeks since you had called Jake about your Christmas plans. He still wasn’t sure how to feel about them, deep down he wanted to tell you not to go. Deep down he was screaming at the top of his lungs for you to give him another chance, to come with him and the kids to his mothers for Christmas. But Jake knew better than to make a scene in front of the kids. But that didn't mean he couldn't be petty when he wanted to be just to get a rise out of you.

“Is that so?” Jake beamed that signature Seresin grin you’d fallen for back in college when he was captain of the football team and you were just that meek library dweller. He made you feel so much more than just the shy history buff you’d been back then, Jake Seresin had taught you a lot of things about yourself in the time you’d been his best friend and wife, now ex. Nowadays however you often caught yourself wondering if he’d miss you if you didn’t make it through the battle you were facing. The battle you hadn’t told anyone about except your mum. The battle that took all your strength to keep a secret close to your chest. The battle that was draining you or all your strength and energy. The battle that late at night you wish you could just end early.

Stage three A, triple positive grade three invasive doctoral carcinoma. Triple positive meaning that your specific cancer fed off oestrogen, progesterone and HER2 hormones. Lucky you right? Your first lumpectomy went rather well, but you were facing twelve weeks of chemotherapy treatment. Three oral tablets daily and two full days of IV sessions a week.

However, you were taking measures into your own hands as of tomorrow and were scheduled to be back in hospital for double mastectomy. You didn't want to wait and see if the cancer would spread and wanted every single bit out. But Jake was none the wiser about your medical status and assumed that you were off to Canada with friends for a white Christmas in Banff Alberta.

“Well—“ Jake carefully took little two year old Sammy from your grasp and placed his tied sleeping self on his own jean clad hip. “Mums are always right.” Jake quickly followed up as he looked down at Lenny. “There’s gonna be a ton of green beans at Grandma's house so you might overtake her quicker than anticipated buddy.” Jake gave the youngest of the three Seresin siblings a kiss on the cheek before he fully turned his attention to you. “Hey Hon—“ The way Jake stopped himself from finishing his sentence made your heart sink into the pit in your stomach. “Y/n, hey Y/n.” He corrected himself quickly as he picked up his duffel bag from the ground next to where he stood before you. “You look well.”

Oh if only Jake truly knew what you had to do in order to look well. The countless hours you spent throwing your guts up in the middle of the night. The sleepless nights that turned into days. The loss of appetite that had you dropping weight faster than you could blink. Your diagnosis had been quick but your symptoms had been even quicker to take over your daily life. You kicked yourself every day for not getting yourself to a doctor sooner.

“Yeah, I’ve been doing alright—“ Things used to be so easy with Jake, now he was standing here before you in the middle of the airport bustling with people going to and from for the holiday season and you swore he looked like someone you didn’t even know. “The kiddos keep me busy, don’t you?” You asked Lucy as she reached out for your hand and looked at you like you were telling lies.

“Mums been sick.” She told her father confidently, like you weren’t about to die then and there on the spot from embarrassment. Little Lucy had a bad habit of throwing you and Jake under the bus with one another. “She said it’s just a cold, but she’s been sick for like four whole weeks.” Lucy didn’t know any better than what you had always told her, that you had the flu. A long flu at that. As soon as you’d get the kids off to school you’d head right back to bed and sleep. The medication your doctors had you on was pretty brutal, and chemotherapy didn’t help although you’d only just started that kind of oral treatment. It packed a punch you couldn't handle.

“Oh?” Jake frowned as the five of you all made your way through the airport and out towards the car park. “Mum didn’t tell me she was sick, if I had known I would have come sooner.” Jake looked at you like he was trying to read the lines on your face. He could tell you were tied, more than normal—but despite that knowledge he’d never say it out loud. His grandmother would roll over in her damn grave if Jake ever dared to point out a woman’s under eye bags or her tired expression. So he went with ‘well’.

“That’s why I didn’t tell you.” You didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh, but you knew by the hurt look on Jake’s face that it had struck an exposed nerve. He never wanted to separate. “What I meant was, I’m fine, Lulu here sees a runny nose and thinks it’s the end of days, I would have called you if I needed help.”

“Fair, I mean—you can’t be that sick right? With your big trip to Banff planned and all.” Jake shrugged it off like his heart wasn’t breaking inside his chest. This was about to be his first Christmas separated from the women he loved more than life itself. Being in North Island made it easier to run from his problems, but the minute he got on that flight he was back inside his own head, rewinding and rethinking everything he ever did wrong to drive you away.

“Right—“ You agreed softly beside the man you loved so deeply that it burned. “Yeah, I’m just so thankful you were so happy to take the kids with you to your mothers house this year.” To be perfectly honest you were expecting Jake to push back, ask more questions, be a little standoffish on the idea of you not being there for the kids on Christmas. But he never did, and you didn’t know what hurt more.

“They’re my kids as much as they’re yours—kinda think it’s the least I can do considering you’ve had them all year round.” It was the tone you didn’t appreciate, the almost passive aggressive attitude that made you frown as you walked with Jake and your kids back to your car.

“You can see the kids anytime you like.” You tried to keep your head level, but the way Jake had said it made you question his motives. “I’d never stop you, if you wanna have them more often I’m sure we can—“

“Wasn’t that a big part of the reason you wanted to separate?” Jake interrupted before you had a chance to finish what you were saying. You were about to say perhaps you could come up with a custody agreement. Something on paper that seemed fair to the both of you that took your work schedules into consideration as well as your living conditions, the kids schooling, holidays and extended family. You were happy to discuss it more, but this year that had passed the both of you by had gone in the blink of an eye. “You were stuck with the kids too much? Seems a little counter intuitive considering you’ve become their primary caregiver.”

“Jake—“ You sighed with a longing he’d missed. “Not in front of the kids, alright?” You were trying your best, truly. But here he was in all his glory, the love of your life and father of your children, telling you that you made a mistake just in a different kind of font. “We can talk about it all when we get home.”

“I’m not doing anything in front of the kids—“ Jake shrugged as he watched you unlock the car. “I’m just trying to understand why you can’t just admit why you really left.” Jake knew why you left, because of him. He knew he hadn’t done enough in your marriage to show you how much he loved you. He just wanted to hear you say it. That you didn’t love him anymore. He wanted you to tell him point blank that you had fallen out of love with him.

But you could never say that, because you never stopped loving him.

“You know why—“ You had to bite the inside of your cheek and grit your teeth to stop yourself from yelling, Jake Seresin after all these years still managed to get under your skin with ease. “Again, not in front of the kids, let’s just get home.”

“You seem frustrated.” Jake teased with that award winning grin, he knew exactly what he was doing. You always took the bait.

“Yeah, you’ve been here for five minutes and I’m already over it.” If you had rolled your eyes any harder than you did you would have fallen over.

“Little harsh—“ Jake chuckled as he placed Sammy into his booster seat, the little buckles that used to give him a hard time when the twins were younger were seamlessly clipped up in seconds. Jake made sure his youngest was safe and secure before he stood and turned his full undivided attention back to you. “I’ve missed you.” He said genuinely with a love so strong inside his heart you could nearly feel the warmth as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and drew you in for a hug. “It’s good to see you, even if it’s just for one night before you go jet setting.”

With little hesitation you melted into the man you had married all those years ago with ease. Jake was your home, your guiding light. This past year had been rough without him and you knew deep down it had been rough for him too.

But sometimes love just wasn’t enough to save a marriage.

“Yeah—yeah it’s good to see you.” Jake felt your arms wrap around his torso as you let your cheek rest on his shoulder. “I’ve missed you too.” Jake’s scent had alway brought comfort to you, the overwhelming warmth of cedarwood and notes of vanilla bourbon always calmed you, grounded you in reality. “I’m uh—“ You wanted to tell him the truth about what was going on, but you just couldn’t do that to him. You couldn’t ask that much of him. Not after everything you’d both been through over the last year. “I’m just happy you’re here for the kids.”

“Mum! Lennox won’t let me have the window seat!”

“I’m older than you!” Lennox argued back as Jake groaned into your neck. Oh how he’d missed you, missed the kids, missed his family. North Island was great but without the four of you? Something was always missing. A piece of Jake was always missing.

“I’m not just here for the kids.” Jake pulled away at the sound of Lenny and Lucy arguing in the back seat over who was taking the middle seat. “But they’re a bonus, Honey.” He winked as he switched into dad mode and dropped his voice an octave or two. “Stop arguing, I’ll flip a coin.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

“Oh woah—“ Jake's eyes lit up as he walked through the front door of the home you’d recently finished moving into. He’d only ever seen it over FaceTime. “It’s bigger than it looked.” The little giggle you let out as you passed him by didn’t go unnoticed. Dirty bird, Jake thought to himself as his eyes lingered down to your ass as you walked ahead of him.

“It’s enough for me and the kids with a spare room.” You replied as Jake continued to look around. Reminisce of cardboard boxes used in your move still remained scattered around the place. “The kids still wanted to put up the Christmas tree even though they aren’t gonna be here.”

“Mama said Santa will know that we’re spending it with Grandma and Grandpa and will take all our presents there.” Lucy caught Jake's attention as she barreled into the living room where the Christmas tree stood tall and proud, decorated with mismatched decorations that you and Jake had collected over the years either from stores or the kids' school crafts. “She also said I could give this to you when you came to stay the night.” Lucy explained as she dropped to her knees and reached under the tree to where a perfectly wrapped gift labelled with Jake's name on it sat. “It’s from mum.”

“Lucy May—“ You nearly hissed as you padded into the living room. “Don’t tell lie’s please.” You pointed, the deal had been you’d get Jake one present and one present only knowing he probably wouldn’t have gotten you anything, and that you’d tell him it was from the kids until he opened it. “You tell your dad who it’s from.” Jake knew by the smirk that crept across his daughter’s face he recognised as his own, that it was from you. Lucy didn’t have to say another word. But she did regardless.

“It’s from me and Lenny.” She replied as Jake sat on the couch he used to sleep on during those nights the two of you couldn’t sleep in the same bed. Those nights where the two of you needed space and those nights where he thought he was doing the right thing by you and giving it to you. He sat on the couch that felt unfamiliar now and took the present his daughter gave him with grace. “Lenny! Dad’s opening our present!”

“What present?” Lennox frowned as he walked into the living room trying to carry two year old Sam. “Oh! Mums present.”

“Lennox!” You groaned aloud in utter defeat.

All Jake could do was laugh to himself as he looked over at you. You were as beautiful as ever, his one and only love. How the fuck did things get so messy where you had to use your children as scapegoats.

“It’s fine, it’s fine—I know it’s from the kids Honey.” Jake winked as you rolled your eyes and headed on into the kitchen where you were getting organised to cook dinner. You were starting to feel awfully tired–the oral chemotherapy was starting to make you feel sicker than you had been before you knew what was going on. A double edged sword really, you keep taking the pills? You get so sick you die. You stop taking the chemotherapy tablets? You get so sick you die. Either way you were dying or you convinced yourself you were.

But Jake could never know that, your kids could never know that, so you went about your routine as normally as you could without making a fuss.

“I might save this for when we get to Grandmas, I wouldn't wanna not have anything to open on Christmas morning Lulu.” Jake smiled as he brought her in for a hug between his legs. “I love you all so much.”

“We love you too dad.” Lucy replied as she hugged Jake back. “Mum loves you too.”

“Oh does she now?” Jake knew that putting all his faith in a six year old probably wasn't the best thing he could do, but right now as he held her in his arms, the little girl the two of you had created–he did. He trusted her to tell the truth you wouldn't, because you wouldn't lie and tell him you didn't love him either. “Guess I'll just have to take your word for it then, won't I?”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Jake Seresin had always been a good dad, you had never questioned him on his ability to go above and beyond for his children. That was something you never had to worry about. As you plated up dinner, the laughter of your three children coming from the living room made you smile to yourself. They were loved so fiercely.

“Alright, let's get ready for dinner, yeah? Mums been cooking up a storm in here.” Jake rounded the corner with Sam hand in hand. “Smells so damn good in here.” You again smiled to yourself as Jake can to stand beside you at the kitchen counter, watching as you scooped some pasta bake onto five plates.

“When's the last time you had a home cooked meal?” It was a simple question but Jake really had to think about it for a moment as he reached over to steal a cucumber slice from the chopped salad.

“Does food from the bar count?” He asked with a half cocked smile, knowing full well that Penny's burgers and fries wouldn’t be considered home cooked in your opinion.

“No–” You grinned as Jake leaned in from behind you, trapping you between him and the counter with both arms encompassing you. “No, when's the last time it was a home cooked meal?” Jake didn't reply right away, he simply inhaled your scent slowly from behind you and took in the comforting scent of elderberry and juniper. He missed that all encompassing feeling, that safe and warming feeling of your presence.

“Uh—probably the last time you cooked for me.” Jake noticed the moment you paused at his words, the revelation that you were having. “And it was probably pasta bake, with salad and pork chops, like what we’re having right now.”

“It’s always your favourite—“ It was clear from the very beginning that both you and Jake were getting caught in the moment. But as his hands slowly make their way from the counter top to hips, you know you were too far gone to press the pause button. “Jacob—“

“I'm a simple man.” Jake cooed as he brought one of his hands up to move your hair from one side of your neck. “Lucy tells me you love me.”

“She’s got a pretty wild imagination that daughter of ours.” You teased as Jake pressed his lips against your neck in a sweet gesture of gratitude for the woman who gave him three beautiful children. “You need to stop—“ You sighed into Jake's warm embrace as he pulled away and let his chin fall to your shoulder. “I don’t know where or what you've been in recently.”

“I think she said her name was Vanessa.” Jake taunted as he held you tightly from behind. He felt you tense in his embrace at the very idea he’d been with someone other than you. But you couldn’t hold it against him, not now, the pair of you were separated. You held no claim on the man you had left in favour of putting yourself first.

But that didn’t mean it still didn’t hurt.

“Vanessa a name I should remember?” You asked with a little attitude in your tone Jake caught immediately. He couldn’t help but to smirk at the idea you were a little jealous of his very infrequent conquests. He loved you to the end of the world but this was such a frustrating situation to be in. What was a guy supposed to do? Be celebate in hopes his wife came running back?

“Nope—“ Jake reassured you with another kiss to the neck. “I’m not ready to let you go, I thought maybe I could if I just leaned into the whole thing, whatever it is that we’re doing, but I’m just not ready to let you go.”

“Have you?” Jake had to clear his throat when he asked. “Been with anyone, that is?”

“Do you think between work, raising three kids with your DNA and missing you that I’d have time to get laid?” You knew what Jake would latch onto, the part where you said you missed him. You saw the light in his eye as you turned in his embrace to face him with a mischievous smile plastered across your face.

“You miss me?” Yes. Yes you did. With all your might you missed him everyday and every night. But it didn’t change what the two of you became.

“Don’t try your luck—“ You argued, shrugging Jake's query off like the answer was obvious. To him it was, you did miss him. Other sailors tend to recognise other sailors on the sea and Jake missed you tenfold.

“Oh I’m feeling like the luckiest guy in the whole world right now.” You could feel Jake pressing himself against you, silently but not so subtly telling you exactly what this whole encounter was doing to him.

“Really? Is that so?” You asked like you weren’t aware of the rock hard erection pressing against your pelvis. Jake just pressed his lips together in an attempt to hold off the crimson red from creeping up his neck and cheeks. But he wasn’t backing down from a challenge, especially when you were leaving all the right doors unlocked for him to walk right through.

“So lucky that I couldn’t help but to notice the spare bed hasn’t even been made up?”

“Oh so you assumed I’d be your personal chef and the maid tonight?” You countered as you looked around for your three small children, not wanting to expose them to such x-rated content before you slowly but surely sunk your hand into the sweatpants Jake had recently changed into. Damn those grey sweats and damn Jake for going commando. “You are perfectly capable of making your own bed.”

The way your palm wrapped around his length sent sparks through Jake's body like nothing he’d ever felt before. Your touch was so beautiful and elegant, like you knew exactly what he needed and where he wanted it.

“Or I could just sleep in yours, with you.” Jake nearly begged as your fist slid up and down his hardened length, feeling him twitch under your control. “Honey—“ He nearly moaned as he fell forward into you, letting his forehead rest against yours. “You’re killing me here.”

“What don’t you get about the fact we’re separated?” You asked almost teasingly like you weren’t pumping him slowly as dinner cooled on the counter behind you while your kids played in the living room.

“For as long as you have my last name, you’re my wife, end of story.” Butterflies, that’s how you’d describe the feeling inside you when Jake, your somewhat ex husband, told you you were still his. You never wanted to not be his, but you were sure that Vanessa maybe wondered if she’d ever be his too.

“Oh you are so full of yourself.” You slowly but surely pulled your hand out from Jake’s sweats and watched him nearly deflate at the loss of sensation, but he never missed a beat, Jake was quick like that, he always had been.

“You could be full of me too if you just let your guard down a little.”

“Jake!!” You slapped his chest firmly as your kids all rushed in at the smell of food.

“I’ll take my stuff upstairs shall I?” He grinned ear to ear, knowing by the way your jaw remained on the ground he had you hook, line and sinker.

“Yeah, you can, to the spare room you idiot.” You watched as Jake fixed himself up and headed in the direction of the stairs. You were still so in love with this man.

“Lenny! Where’s your mothers room?” Jake turned to your eldest son who always knew that the two of you were going to make it through whatever this rough patch was. He had friends who had divorced parents, and even at the young age of six, Lennox knew his parents didn’t hate each other.

“Upstairs to the left, it’s the messy one.” You gave your son the stink eye as he beamed up at you.

“Perfect.” Jake chuckled and sent you a wink. “I’ll be right back.” He was getting laid tonight and you both knew it.

“I’m—“ You hardly had the energy to keep your whole hard to get act up, so with a sigh, you let your guard down for the man who held your heart in the palm of his hands. “You’re unbelievably.”

“I’ve been told by the youth on base it’s called Rizz now.” Jake yelled back as he jogged up the wooden stairs, you could just barely hear him as his voice faded the higher he climbed. But nevertheless, you still heard him.

“Well I can’t wait to get both you and your ‘rizz’ out of my house!” You shouted back, Lenny just laughed as he watched his Dad pull a funny face at your words from the top of the stairs.

“You don’t mean that.” He smiled up at you. “You and dad love each other.” It made your heart skip a beat, but you had to remember that you were playing a dangerous game here. Letting Jake in now would only break his heart more. You had to do what was best for you, and that was to remain separate. At least while you were fighting for your life.

“Maybe, but he’s still a pain in my ass Lenny.”

***~****~****~***~***~***

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#was it over? // jake seresin #tw: breast cancer #tw: cancer #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman fic

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lightgaswaterelectricityrent · 1 month

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And though Mollie’s three sisters had wed white men, she felt a responsibility to have an arranged Osage marriage, the way her parents had. Still, Mollie, whose family practiced a mixture of Osage and Catholic beliefs, couldn’t understand why God would let her find love, only to then take it away from her. So, in 1917, she and Ernest exchanged rings, vowing to love each other till eternity.

Mollie relied on Ernest for support. A lawyer who knew them both noted that his “devotion to his Indian wife and his children is unusual…and striking.”

A Justice Department official had noted that her “illness is very suspicious, to say the least.” It was urgent, the official went on, to “get this patient to some reputable hospital for diagnosis and treatment free from the interference of her husband.”

Burkhart never admitted having any knowledge that Mollie was being poisoned. Perhaps this was the one sin that he couldn’t bear to admit. Or perhaps Hale had not trusted him to kill his own wife.

An attorney assisting the prosecution asked whether she’d feel better if agents brought her to see Ernest. “That is all I wanted,” she said.

The death of his daughter, the haunting face of his wife each day at the trial, the realization that the evidence against him was piling up—it was too much to withstand. “I’m absolutely helpless,” Burkhart said.

By the time Morrison was convicted of Anna’s murder, Mollie could no longer look at Ernest. She soon divorced him, and whenever her husband’s name was mentioned, she recoiled in horror.

Killers of the Flower Moon, dir. Martin Scorsese // Killers of the Flower Moon by David Grann (2/3)

#killers of the flower moon #martin scorsese #lily gladstone #leonardo dicaprio #kotfmcomp #kotfm #david grann

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elysiuminfra · 1 year

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my I Need Money post (AKA, please consider helping me survive my abusive homelife)

Hi! I’m Cecil. I’m a 20 year old transgender artist from Louisiana, and I can make YOU art!

Art is my sole source of income, and I’m in a bit of a pickle. I am an adult now, and I gotta do adult things. like pay off debt. My sibling is 17. We are both victims of abuse and child neglect at the hands of our alcoholic parents. It’s not so great, but I’d like it to get better.

I’m disabled from medical neglect, and have no way to get my driver’s license. I am unable to get a job, as I live too far from anywhere that would hire me, with no way to get there. This is all I got, man! I got two hands and a warrior’s spirit!

My sibling is my pride and joy and I want to see them flourish and thrive because they’re awesome. They struggle with untreated bipolar disorder and a slew of medical problems, and I want to get them treated for it. I also need to take my two cats to the vet. I have debt I have to pay off, and I have to buy myself food to combat my increasingly declining weight. My clothes don’t fit very well anymore. :(

Art and design is my life-long passion, and I’d like to do it for the rest of my life, but I can’t if I can’t get on my feet. If you’d like to view more of my work, you can check some out here, or view some of my more professional work on my commission website here.

If you would like to financially support me, consider commissioning or donating! Even just sharing helps!

https://ckncommission.carrd.co/

https://ko-fi.com/cknelysium

On a serious note, things at home are not great. This is where I talk about what is going on in detail. Details of abuse and neglect beyond this point. Not required reading, but necessary for context. Photos included.

It’s not that I’m just poor, my parents both work full-time jobs, and they manage to pay the bills. I have food and a roof over my head, but I own nothing but debt, and can’t financially support myself. My parents have been neglecting my sibling for years, and neglected me the same. They do nothing to help us.

My sibling is showing signs of health deterioration, likely malnutrition, and they don’t seem to be concerned about it at all. My health is getting worse, too, because my parents have ignored me when I have stated I am getting worse. I haven’t been to the dentist ever since I was a child. I live with disabling chronic pain and intense fatigue, and I don’t even have a diagnosis, since no one will take me to the doctor.

My sibling likely not going to graduate because my parents have not supported them at all with their mental health, education, or support them just in general. They live in total isolation alongside me. My parents are also the reason why I can’t get a job- they won’t teach me how to drive, and won’t provide transportation. I am physically trapped in my own house, and the only people who can drive refuse to take us anywhere. They also will not help clean the house, and they won’t help fix our dryer or washer, which are both broken. They won’t take our pets to the vet. They won’t spare any expenses for things that need to be done. They spend most of their money on alcohol. In my state, we are currently experiencing what one would call abuse and child neglect. This is one of the only times I have ever written, in detail, what my home life is like.

Our washer and dryer, both broken. We don’t have any flooring in that room. The other is part of our living room floor. I am the only person who cleans the house in any capacity, and when I do it never, ever stays clean. The dirt is from my dad alone. I need to cover doctor’s visits, medication, food for my sibling, and vet costs for my pets. I would also maybe like to have a little treat every once in a while. I can’t physically drive, but if I am able to get the money for it, I can force my parents to take care of things. Due to the, er, abuse, I am also isolated from the world at large and have no support system. All things described on my sibling have been happening to me for years, but I’m technically an adult now, so there’s little anyone can do for me. Things aren’t so great, but I think they can get better through blood sweat and tears. Which is why I have to step up and try to do all these things myself! A difficult task, but I want to make art into something I could do as a job. Please lord have mercy, I want to wash my clothes. I can even save up for a car, and teach myself how to drive, so I can finally reach independence. Without financial support, I can’t achieve that at all. I am very stressed about everything. I’m very isolated as a result of not being allowed to go anywhere. I don’t have anyone I can confidently trust with my home-life situation. I have no resources either, as I live in an area with very little support for adult victims of parental abuse. I’ve never made a plea like this before. I just want to be able to live and thrive and survive on my own, and I just can’t do it at this rate. If I can go to the doctor, I can get healthier, and undo all the years of medical neglect and actually hold a full-time job making coffee like I’d like. I’m afraid both me and my sibling will never get anywhere in life, and I don’t want that for them. I don’t want that for me. I want to finally start living. Thank you for reading, and getting to the end.

#pinned #commissions

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thebibliosphere · 11 months

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hello! sorry for a random ask, but i don’t know who else might be able to answer. i’ve been dealing with chronic pain for almost my entire life and have been struggling to get a diagnosis for almost two decades. i was originally told i just had hypermobile joints, but the pain, fatigue, and GI upset has never been explained to me. my husband has been researching hEDS and wants me to get tested.

the point of this ask is that i’m in a bit of a bind: i’m currently 10 days in to a 17 day study abroad trip in greece and my pain levels are to the point where i’m actively missing parts of the trip that i was extremely excited about. i feel a bit better when i’m walking, but standing in one place makes my body SCREAM and that’s been about 90% of all of our tours. i’m wondering if there might be some kind of mobility aid to help people stand still?

i’ve considered a cane, but since i can walk ok i don’t want to be seen as attention seeking or whatever, especially with the very young group i’m with. i guess it couldn’t look weirder than what i’m doing now (randomly crouching in museums and slowly creaking to my feet when it’s time to move).

i’m sorry is this ask is coming across strangely, you’re just the most open spoony i follow and i thought you might have some ideas.

Oh, friend. I'm so sorry; that really sucks. I know you said you're hesitant to use a cane, but have you considered a seating cane? That might be easier than trying to crouch. Camping seats might also be a good alternative for you just so you can rest. I think you can order from any of the EU-based Amazon stores if there isn't a physical store you can get to. (I know my Greek followers use Amazon.es to buy paperbacks of my books. I don't know what shipping times look like though.)

If anyone makes a stink, you can always just tell them you were injured. That's what I do when I don't want to have to explain my (mostly) invisible disabilities to people.

Also, at night, try to make sure you're supporting your joints with extra pillows. I always find standing very painful the next day if I don't support my hips while I sleep.

Good luck, I hope you can enjoy the rest of your trip.

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kyushiblast · 2 months

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Howdy! Could I request a platonic grusha with a reader who maybe gets into an accident during his snowboarding gym challenge? Not just taking a tumble or anything, like rocks fall or something and you break a limb.

Im not really sure what kind of genre this would count as... hurt/comfort, I suppose????

Idk. I just like giving my favorite characters heart attacks 🙃

⤷ 〝 reminders and you. 〞

➞ pairing : grusha x gn! reader

➞ summary : you get injured during grusha’s gym challenge.

➞ genre : hurt to comfort

➞ cw / other : bad injury mention , DO NOT RAG ON MY TAKE ON GRUSHA’S PERSONALITY OK , not proofread

➞ a/n : ahah we are very alike. I’M SORRY there are some non platonic parts in here i couldn’t help myself — GOSH this could’ve been so much better. again, i'm sorry.

you and grusha were friends on good terms. he’d heard from you plenty on how excited you were to face him despite battling him unofficially many times before.

he’d then reminded you about his gym challenge, which led to him teaching you the basics.

everything should’ve been fine. you should’ve passed with flying colors, you should’ve been able to battle him. but as grusha watched from above, he witnessed himself the event.

a couple of rocks flew your way from a bunch of whatever pokémon play-fighting, ranging from the size of a bergmite to a literal cetoddle. it was hectic.

this was early in the morning, so the snow tossed around from the first hit was easily seen throwing you off and landing you in the snow. grusha, without thinking, leapt from his position and sped towards your body. you were practically suffocating in the snow, the amount on top of you along with the heavy rocks against your one leg preventing you from getting up.

everything ached. grusha’s voice sounded so far away, even as he wiped the snow away from your face and got his pokemon to help get the rocks off.

yelling. ambulances. people carrying you away. grusha’s hand entwined with yours (as he’d taken off his glove to do so) in a protective, worried manner. and you’d just noticed your tears falling down onto the stretcher, warm compared to the coldness in your chest.

meanwhile, grusha was having an inward panic attack. why did it always have to be with snowboarding? he could’ve prevented this—he could’ve had the common sense to rid the pokémon around in case of something like this happening. but no—he just watched you. watched the fall, watched your bleeding and crippled form from those stupid rocks and the icy mountain’s hand in all of this.

he gripped onto your hand like it was a form of life support, no matter how embarrassing it would be to explain it later. he was focused on the flashbacks of what happened to him before, his state and his life turned upside down because of one mistake.

but he promised to himself that whatever happened next, he’d be next to you through it all.

the ride felt like a time to reflect. reflect on childhood and whatever led you to this. “if i go out like this,” you thought to yourself, “at least it’ll be by grusha…”

like souls melded together, your thoughts were mostly on the other on the journey to the hospital.

he’d expected this, but couldn’t help but cringe anyways at the diagnosis.

fractures, a concussion, internal suffering, and so on—surgeries were unavoidable and inevitable. but to him you handled it all like a champ, thankful that the doctors here were skilled and handy at their jobs.

grusha was relieved you were alive. the doctors had said you were lucky, and he couldn’t have thanked his lucky stars more for you.

his calm demeanor slowly returned in the lobby as he waited patiently for them to call him back. he got news that you’d have to stay overnight, which he was also expecting. and so he decided to stay with you as comfort.

he carefully opened the door to your room, the place dimmed and your eyes closed for sleep—or as he thought.

it’d surprised him when he saw your fingers wiggle a little, as if reaching out but suppressed by lack of energy (which was probably accurate). he gently took your chilly hand, warming it up with his now put on glove. you’d tugged at the material, though, and so grusha took it off.

his fingers, surprisingly soft and less cracked than you’d think them up to be, moved in soothing gestures against your own. your mind was still in a daze, but you knew that this feeling with him felt fuzzy and warm. a moment you’d want to last forever under different circumstances in which you hadn’t injured yourself.

after some contemplation, he leaned forward to lightly kiss the top of your hand before shying his head away.

he’d stayed holding your hand until you’d fallen asleep, his cue to fall asleep on the chairs next to the bed despite the uncomfortable feeling.

grusha’s happy to say that he was fully available on the day you were discharged. on other days, he’d visit you in the hospital with the days cut short because of one thing or another. but because of a well needed day off, grusha appeared on the day and helped you get back to the outside world.

you got back your pokemon from grusha, who’d you’d loaned them to to take care of while you were hospitalized. they’d visited too along with him, always clingy and fussy over you.

you were supposed to use a special cast for a while, but it was better than staying holed up in that musty room with nothing to do and talk about scheduled dosages and surgeries all the time. much better.

with grusha by your side, you were going to go back to your usual routines and finally be able to battle him.

all this for a battle. spoiler alert, you win.

work of kyushiblast , please do not translate , copy , or repost here or on any other platform !!

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kangals · 11 months

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less than one month ago I brought Boone to the vet for his twice-yearly recheck with his physical therapist. he bounced into and out of the car eagerly, always excited to take a ride. the doctor asked me how much exercise he gets - he does well, I said, we go on a 30-40 minute walk every morning and he’s slow but he keeps up fine. he eats his meals and enjoys a romp in the yard. he has some stiffness in his spine, the beginnings of some minor nerve defects in his legs, but otherwise received good marks. “keep doing what you’re doing,” I was told.

today, he is dying.

he walks gingerly, his head held low and body stiff. his back legs tremble to support him for more than a few moments, collapsing back into his bed. just walking to the back of the yard leaves him exhausted. he sniffs half-heartedly at food, but refuses to eat. he does not play, or romp, or dig at his bed to make it comfortable or stretch his long back or watch dutifully out the window when the mailman comes. ive been ignoring the signs, trying desperately to believe this is not the end, that one morning everything will be better, but it’s so vibrantly, painfully clear. his eyes say, “I am tired. I hurt. I am done.”

it’s all happened too fast. his body hasn’t yet had time to reflect the malignancy that’s taking over his insides. his muscles are still toned, his coat is soft and silky. he’s barely lost any weight. a few still-healing scabs litter his legs - I can’t stop focusing on them. look, I think, his body is healing itself! a dying body can’t do that! then I see the glassy eyes and see him stare emotionlessly at his surroundings and know it’s too late.

when was the last time I took him for a long walk in the woods? the last time he ripped into his toy box and gleefully scattered them across the room? the last time he dug in his heels and raced around the yard, obeying a millennia of instincts to run, run, run? I don’t remember - I never expected to have them suddenly stop. I don’t remember these last expressions of health, of happiness. these should have been monumental, important moments. I took them for granted.

I wanted his last days to be peaceful - full of his favorite things. I’d spoil him with cheeseburgers and Chinese food, give him all the treats he wanted, take him to the beach and the woods to sniff to his hearts content.

but he won’t eat, and he can’t walk. all I can do is sit by him and try to let him know I’m still here. I wish I could do more.

looking at the box full of his prescriptions, the fridge stocked with dozens and dozens of different foods, I feel so despondent. they didn’t help. they couldn’t - nothing could. nature dictated that my dog will die, and that is where we are. i tried so, so hard to make him better, and i might as well not have tried at all.

in a way, this diagnosis is a horrible blessing. it allows no room for arguments - it’s done, it’s over, this is the final entry to his life. even with the most aggressive treatment and the luck of a good response, it would buy us less than two months time. I know that’s not an option. I know he is too tired, and ready to go. he’s done - has been for weeks, even if I wanted to believe otherwise.

I know so, so many people with dogs they loved just as much and more, who did not get as much time together as we did. who didn’t get this chance to say goodbye. we had almost 9 years together, with so many wonderful memories.

but still, I don’t think it will ever be enough.

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queercripintersex · 7 months

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I’ve seen people discuss that PCOS is possibly an intersex condition. I can’t seem to get a straight answer from google, so I think it’s like a “some doctors say yes, some say no” situation. I’m not 100% sure what I think about it, but I want to know if I can interact with your polls as someone with PCOS? If not, that’s totally understandable!

All forms of hyperandrogenism are intersex. That includes hyperandrogenism attributed to PCOS. If you have hyperandrogen PCOS and feel intersex applies to you, try on the label and see if it fits you. Hang out in intersex spaces and get to know other intersex people. <3

Not everybody with PCOS has hyperandrogenism. There's some legit ambiguity about where the people with PCOS who don't have hyperandrogenism fall. (Personally: what matters is participating in the intersex community and seeing if the label sticks upon immersion, not any given diagnosis.)

I wanna point out that doctors have a terrible track record on speaking about intersex people and have a very long history of failing to listen to actually intersex people.

Who is and isn't intersex is a question for the intersex community, not doctors. And we intersex people are unanimous that PCOS counts as an intersex variation. Lest you think this is some weird tumblr phenomenon, InterAct includes it in their list of intersex variations.

In every intersex community I've followed I've seen the PCOS question come up again and again and intersex people are consistent that it counts.

The only people who don't want PCOS to count are anti-trans people who can't stand the idea of sex variation being common, and doctors who think they know better than intersex people (including intersex doctors).

I hope that helps understand the situation! If you want to learn more about PCOS as intersex, intersex-support has answered a lot of asks on the topic. <3

#intersex #pcos #hyperandrogenism #asks #text post

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reyesstrand · 11 months

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i’m presenting a theory that’ll likely be wrong but!

so we know at some point tk asks owen to be his best man. we know this season is emphasizing his and owen’s relationship—tk refers to him as his best friend, owen expresses regret over how he handled telling tk about his cancer diagnosis and vows to never hide anything from him again.

we also know that carlos views his relationship with gabriel as a sore spot. he views owen and tk as having a great father-son dynamic. he tells andrea he feels he wouldn’t measure up and that’s the source of his conflict with wanting to be a father, most of which stems from the fact that he and gabriel just started having a relationship a couple of years ago…which still seems rife with complexities and deeply repressed issues due to ideas around masculinity, sexuality and other things that come about when carlos, the only boy and (likely) youngest kid is raised in a traditional household. we see carlos and gabriel embrace when carlos is saved, and you can see the love for his son gabriel has, but it’s also not hard to extrapolate from the scenes we’ve gotten from them that this isn’t something that’s expressed a whole lot.

so we know that carlos seeks out gabriel (likely a short while before the wedding) and asks him to be his best man. his reasoning is “you’re the best man i know” and i’m wondering if this is his attempt at an olive branch—at reaching out to his father before he gets married. and i’m wondering if whereas owen jumps at the opportunity to be tk’s best man, gabriel….hesitates.

i’m wondering if it’s kind of weighing on gabriel like….how their relationship has had its issues. i’m wondering if it’s going to open up a can of worms. we know he’s at the rehearsal dinner and seemingly happy, and we know he of course accepts and supports carlos and tk’s relationship, but i wonder if we’ll see him question why on earth carlos would want him to take on this role after all these years of miscommunication and emotional distance.

i think they’re purposely being shady with the promo so we don’t see whether or not gabriel is standing at carlos’ side as his best man, just like they’re hiding whether or not he’s at the wedding. but this still speaks volumes to me

alongside the fact that carlos is wearing gabriel’s ring. i think we’ll get a moment before the ceremony of gabriel either suddenly accepting the role (meaning iris, who is wearing a boutonnière similar to paul/owen/tk/carlos’ can step aside and just be a guest) or simply handing him his ring as a symbol of his love and his support and a promise to be better and talk more. and i think the still above, with carlos teary-eyed and and gripping tk’s hand, is gabriel standing up in front of everyone and giving a speech that shows how much respect he has for his son (and new son-in-law), how much he loves him, and how carlos is the best man he knows. cue tears for everyone and a step into carlos and gabriel working on their relationship. and leaving whatever this tragedy is (if there’s even something that big, we know how lone star plays us with wording) to something else.

#IDK!! i’m likely wrong but i think this would be such an interesting way to go. to show gabriel having these complex feelings #to have carlos really dig into his vulnerabilities with his dad #carlos reyes #gabriel reyes #tarlos #911 lone star #911ls #lone star speculation #lone star spoilers

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bullet-prooflove · 2 months

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You beat me at my own damn game

Sequel to The Fire Still Burns

Crockett doesn’t expect you to turn up at his door that night. It’s been four months since he left you, since he told you he couldn’t cope with your change of circumstances and walked out the door. You’ve run into each other a few times since then, always at the hospital, sometimes in the elevator, sometimes in the canteen. You always look tired, wrung out. Your nephew’s illness takes a toll on you, he knows the feeling, he experienced the same thing with Harper. He wishes he could say it gets better…

You don’t say anything when he opens the door, when he tries to speak you stifle his words, covering his mouth with your own. That instance, it unlocks something with him, all of those feelings he’s been holding back, that emotion, it breaks the surface.

It devolves from there, roving hands and desperate kisses. There’s a recklessness in you tonight, a wildness he’s never seen before. That should have been his first clue, he realises in the aftermath. It gets a little raw, a little rough. It’s a far cry from the love making he remembers, the nights you spent tangled up in one other.

You fuck him that night, hard and he lets you. He thinks you need to feel something in that moment, something other than the weight of that responsibility that bears down on you day after day.

You’re already getting dressed by the time he starts to catch his breath. He tries to say something, anything but the words just die in his throat because he can’t take back what he did, despite how much he wants to.

It occurs to him as you close the apartment door behind you that you’ve just beat him at his own game. Fucking and running, that used to be his move before he met you and now your reading from his playbook.

It isn’t until the next day that he hears the news, your nephew Jace passed away yesterday evening, you’d been right there holding his hand. Suddenly he understands why you ended up in his bed last night, how you’d used him as a way to cope.

He turns up at your place after work. He knows this cycle, how destructive it is. He’s here to help you through it if you let him. When you open the door, he knows that you’ve been crying, your skin is blotchy, your eyes red rimmed. Something in his heart just breaks because he had hoped that Jace would be one of the lucky ones, that somehow despite his diagnosis he’d make it.

“Darlin,” He whispers, cradling your face between his hands. “I’m so god damned sorry.”

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#crockett marcel #crockett marcel x reader #crockett marcel x you #chicago med

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heisenberg-simp257 · 1 year

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First let me say I love your work!! You write everyone so well and I love it lots. Second off I was wondering if you’d be comfortable doing some hcs for the four lords with an autistic reader? I’m still coming to terms with my diagnosis and what my support needs are, and sometimes I worry that characters wouldn’t like me if they found out I was autistic (even if that sounds silly,,). How do they deal with/interact with the echolalia, the sensory seeking, the meltdowns, the overstimulation, eye contact issues - the whole nine yards?? I’m so sorry if I got carried away I’m really excited to see this !!

I can try! I hope I get this right and you enjoy it!😁💖 I know very little about autism, so thanks for giving some examples to use XD

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Four Lords with an Autistic S/O Headcanons

Alcina Dimitrescu

-I feel like Alcina would try her very hardest to accommodate your needs but also getting things wrong a lot of the time. She just doesn't understand and hasn't ever been around someone with autism, so she struggles.

-She's probably best when it comes to you avoiding eye contact because it really doesn't affect anything in either of your lives. It makes you uncomfortable, she understands and respects it.

-Alcina has her three daughters comfort you during any meltdown or overstimulation because they have the minds of therapy dogs. She tends to avoid those moments because she doesn't want to lose her temper. You wouldn't deserve that because you can't always help it.

-However, she will always defend your honor and needs.

-If you want something, she will find some way to get it no matter how ridiculous it is. After all, getting what she wants is her specialty. It may be hard for her to deal with some of your symptoms, but she tries to make you comfortable.

-Will get you the biggest stuffed bear if you ask for it.

-And if Heisenberg or anyone dares make fun of you, she will go claws out to protect you and keep you as happy as possible, even if she struggles on how sometimes.

Donna Beneviento (and Angie)

-Donna is probably the most understanding out of the four lords because she herself has behaviors that some consider odd. Sure, she isn't an expert on autism, but she doesn't need to be. She just gets you and flows with whatever happens.

-Nothing really bothers her. She could care less about eye contact because she herself struggles with it. In fact, who knows, Donna herself could be a little bit autistic as well.

-Donna handles any meltdowns you have like a champ. She gets anything you need, comforts you, leaves you alone, whatever you need, and she doesn't get flustered or overwhelmed doing it. Angie might but Donna doesn't.

-But any overstimulation you have is where she shines.

-Too bright? You'll get darkness. Too loud or too quiet? Donna will fix that as well. Her estate is the perfect location to deal with it because she can make it dark and serene in an instance. Or the opposite. There isn't much ever going on at her place.

-And who knows, perhaps her hallucinogenic flower garden might make you feel a bit better.

-The other lords know better than to say anything about you. Because an attack at you is an attack at Donna, and they don't dare take that risk.

Salvatore Moreau

-Right next to Donna when it comes to respecting your condition and loving you regardless of anything. Hell, he wouldn't have any right to be judgmental of anything because he's been bullied more times than he count. Perhaps that's why he wears his heart on his sleeve.

-Like most of the other lords, he knows next to nothing about autism. Sure, he was a doctor, but not in that department. Perhaps that makes him such a good person because he doesn't have any preconceptions about it. Moreau just knows you have some quirks and learns to deal with them.

-To be honest though, while he's not judgmental or adverse to you, it takes him a while to learn and understand. If you have a meltdown, Moreau probably will as well. It's just his reaction or maybe his way of expressing sympathy.

-Unlike the others though, he goes above and beyond to push himself to learn and take good care of you.

-He knows his accommodations aren't rightly suited for your health, so he tries to DIY an area that would make you most comfortable. This is all due to the extensive reading he did.

-Moreau still has that doctor mentality to care for you no matter how much work it would require.

-In the end, he actually becomes the most knowledgeable out of his fellow lords. Moreau is probably the most caring and understanding out of everyone, and you know you are going to be loved and just fine by his side.

Karl Heisenberg

-So, if Moreau is the most caring out of the four lords, Heisenberg has to be the least caring. It's less of a preconceived notion and more of a "I don't have time for this" notion. He knows what autism is, but you require more attention than he can give.

-There has been times when he's raised his voice or yelled over things that you can't control, like a meltdown of some sort. He has to distance himself from you after that because he truly does feel bad, but he doesn't know how to say it.

-Heisenberg has anger issues, we all know this. This is why he distances himself from you while trying to figure out how to care for you at the same time. He really just doesn't know how.

-Sometimes, he wonders if this is the right situation for you to be in. You need care that he just can't give you.

-But overtime, he realizes that he needs to sure as hell try because while you have meltdowns, overstimulation, and struggle to talk to him at some points, there's a part of you that brings positive energy to his life. Call him selfish, but he needs that.

-Maybe that's why he gets angry sometimes. It has nothing to do with you, but rather at the situation. He wants you, but knows you need better.

-Despite all the stress you guys are both under, you know he cares because he gets so protective. He keeps you in the safe serene living space of his factory and will kill the others if they bring up anything about you to him. At the end of the day, he's here for you.

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heliza24 · 11 months

Text

The Radical Act of Quitting (and Wilhelm)

This is a little more personal than my Young Royals metas normally are. It’s really one-half personal essay, one-half show analysis. It’s something of a spiritual successor to my post about radical acceptance and Simon’s arc in season 2. And it’s also about the reasons why I want Wilhelm to renounce the crown by the end of season 3. (I am stating that early, because I know many people disagree. Feel free to engage but please do so with kindness; a lot of this is quite vulnerable for me.)

I’m disabled. Specifically, I have a chronic condition that began in my early twenties, and slowly got worse and worse until I was finally diagnosed at 28. I’m 31 now, and I’ve had to grieve the person I once was many times over. I used to be a dancer, I used to be an adventurous eater, I used to love to travel. My chronic pain and restrictive medical diet have taken those things away from me, piece by piece. But the thing I mainly want to talk about right now is quitting my job. At the time of my diagnosis, I had worked at my job full time for three years. For a few years after my diagnosis, I tried to remain at my job part-time, because I loved it. I worked in the music industry, and I had the best team of coworkers. I had a great work/life balance, I was never stressed about work. I looked forward to each day in the office. When I went to events and had to introduce myself during an ice-breaker, I would usually include a fact about my job. I found a lot of my identity there. All of my work directly supported musicians, which was something I was very proud of.

So I tried very, very hard to hang on to my job. My company gave out these ridiculously heavy plaques for employees who had been at the company for 5 years, and I was determined to get one. But it was really hard. I could no longer type sitting up for more than a few minutes, so I did every day from my lap desk in bed. (This is still where I write all of my fic and meta!) I struggled to talk to customers on the phone while I was in pain. The office was closed because of the pandemic, but I would have had to work from home regardless because I couldn’t handle the commute. Every day was a slog. And my pain and fatigue weren’t getting better. In fact they were continuing to get worse as time went on. Finally, my five-year work anniversary arrived. I made it, but I felt like a runner barely stumbling over the finish line. It was the end of 2021. I talked with my friends and my therapist and my disability benefits lawyer. “I don’t think I can keep working,” I would say. And then I would cry, because the thought of letting go of this last part of my identity, when my illness had already taken so much, was so horrible.

After several months of deliberating and grieving, I quit. My boss begged me to reconsider (God bless him, honestly). Was there anything he could do to better accommodate my needs? Could I work a different schedule to let me sleep more? Could I work freelance on specific projects they really needed me on? I wanted to say yes so badly. But I knew. The longer I held on, the more I fought, the worse my health would become. And the worse my health would become, the more I would struggle with work. The joy I had felt during my first three years in that office had already drained away. I was fighting just to get through each day, and I didn’t want to fight anymore.

I recognize that having the resources and disability benefits to even consider quitting is a huge privilege. There are a lot of disabled and chronically ill folks who struggle through work at great detriment to their health because they can’t afford not to keep working. So I recognize how lucky I was to be able to quit. I am so grateful for that option, even as I mourn all the things I have lost.

In my meta about Simon, I talked about radical acceptance and how it has been my guiding light as a disabled person. Embracing radical acceptance means that I have done my best to accept what I can and cannot do, and what I can and cannot control, without judgment. I accepted that I needed to walk away from my job. But how was I supposed to define myself without it?

Capitalism defines most peoples’ self-identity, whether they realize it or not. We identify with our jobs, or with the “grind” culture, or with the moral goodness associated with working hard. But here I was, without a job. And I had my whole adult life ahead of me. I had to find a way to make a new identity outside of work.

Around this time, I started to gravitate towards stories where characters are faced with similar decisions, even if I didn’t realize it yet. And let me tell you, there aren’t many of them.

@bluedalahorse and I talk about this a lot. In our ultra-franchised world, the point of stories, even those that are supposedly about rebellions, is often to return characters to the status quo, so that the next movie/comic/episode can pick back up where the last one left off. And when there is a significant change in the status quo, it is usually because the characters worked, and pushed, and struggled to achieve that change. It’s very rare to see a story about someone who walked away from something that was harming them. It’s rarer still to find something that deals with the aftermath, as characters work to re-establish themselves.

I’ve found a lot of comfort in true stories of people leaving cults and high demand religions, and of queer people forced to leave their conservative families behind. In all of these cases, people are consciously abandoning a predominant belief system that is harming them, and have to start over as they craft their new sense of identity. (I am also queer, which adds an additional level of connection). Often people in these situations come to rely on their found family, a thing I have also found to be true in my own life.

I quit my job in between seasons 1 and 2 of Young Royals, and I don’t think I realized how many themes connected my experience to Wilhelm’s until I was watching season 2. Wilhelm is the protagonist of Young Royals, and his central dramatic question has always been: will he fulfill his duty as a royal? Or will he quit, and discover who he is beyond the system he was raised in? Simon is a huge part of this decision, obviously, but the question has never been strictly about Simon.

While I have no personal experience with the monarchy, I do know what it’s like to consider walking away from a role that you assumed you would fill for the rest of your life. I know what it’s like to think about quitting your job.

There’s so much pressure on Wilhelm to assume the role of perfect Crown Prince. He’s told constantly—by Kristina, by Jan-Olof, by the court-- that he can’t let his family or his country down by deviating from this role in any way.

This is a pretty common experience for people who are trying to quit something. They are told that they will let down those around them if they leave. People who are leaving high demand religions are told that they will not be able to enter heaven. Queer people in conservative families are told they can’t come out because “it would break [elderly relative]’s heart and kill them.” When I quit my job, I thought a lot about how I’d be letting down my coworkers and everyone who knew me as a hyper-competent career-driven person.(This included some of my doctors by the way, who expressed their disappointment in my failure to adhere to their idea of a “worthy” disabled person, i.e. someone who soldiered through the pain and continued to work. Some withdrew care because of this and honestly I will never forgive them). And maybe I was letting people down, and maybe ex-Mormons really will spend the afterlife in outer darkness, and maybe all the grandmas of queer people will be so upset that they kick the bucket when their grandkids come out. But ultimately, if your happiness or safety or well being depends on leaving, it doesn’t really matter. You have to do it anyway. You have to abandon the things that you can no longer carry. You have to discover who you are on the other side of religion, of the closet, of capitalism.

I think about this every time people in the fandom talk about how Wilhelm leaving the line of succession will create a constitutional crisis, or impact all of Sweden negatively. I am personally pretty anti-monarchist, but I honestly can’t even tell you if I think that Wilhelm removing himself from the line of succession would bring about the end of the Swedish monarchy or not. Honestly, I don’t really care. I care about Wilhelm. I want him to seek happiness, to search for the future that must live on the other side of this oppressive system he finds himself in. A constitutional crisis? That’s Kristina’s problem, that’s Jan-Olof’s problem, that’s the government’s problem. Radical acceptance means focusing on the things you can control, and Wilhelm can only control his own happiness.

When this issue gets debated, I often see people argue that Wilhelm is too young to make the decision to give up the throne. But the reality is that we ask teenagers to make decisions about their futures all the time. @bluedalahorse wrote a great piece of meta about that here. I love what she said so much I’m going to quote it directly:

Nonetheless, we ask teenagers of Sara and Wilhelm’s ages to think about decisions that affect their future all the time. We ask them to consider what career they’ll pursue or what university to attend. Teenagers who grow up in various denominations of Christianity consider whether they’re going to go through with Confirmation or sometimes Baptism. Other religions (ones where I can’t speak from as much personal experience) have various other rites of passage around this age, and various cultures have coming of age rituals. For some teens, they do these things willingly and with their whole heart, whereas for others, they do it to please their parents or families or for the social norms of it all.

And if Wilhelm is too young to decide to give up the throne, how can he be old enough to decide to keep it? Surely the decision to take on the governance of a country, even in a symbolic way, requires as much, if not more, maturity than the decision to pursue a less high-powered career elsewhere.

When people in the fandom claim that Wilhelm is too young to make this decision, I hear Kristina telling Wilhelm to wait until he’s 18 to come out, because only then will he be responsible enough to deal with the consequences. That’s a delaying tactic, and nothing more. People who don’t want you to leave will ask you to delay your decision over and over again, because they think that if they can kick the can down the road just a little farther, they’ll never have to lose you.

I also see people argue that Wilhelm isn’t qualified to make a decision because he doesn’t know enough about the “real world” to know what he is choosing. To be honest I don’t think most teenagers know much about the “real world”. I definitely didn’t. But we ask them to make decisions that will affect their futures anyway. And here’s another way to look at this: Wilhelm has plenty of places he can look to for examples of how “ordinary” people live. He can find out what it’s like to be from a noble but non-royal family from the students at Hillerska. He can talk to Simon and Linda about what their lives are like. He can read the millions of books, or watch the thousands of movies and TV shows that feature non-royal protagonists and were created by non-royal artists. But only Wilhelm knows what it is like to be Crown Prince. No one else has had that experience. So I would argue that actually, Wilhelm is the only one qualified to make this call.

Ultimately, the agency and mental capacity of people who are quitting is often doubted, usually by the people who have the most to gain by keeping them in place.

So many people have so much invested in maintaining the status quo. And as soon as you invest in a system, someone daring to leave puts your world view into question. Why are you dealing with so many oppressive rules if someone else can just leave? We see this a lot with high demand religions and cults; if someone threatens to break free, the members often join ranks and work together to pressure them to stay. What has your sacrifice as a woman in a patriarchal religion meant, for example, if another woman can decide to simply walk away? Does Kristina’s grim life of duty and sacrifice matter, if Wilhelm can just opt out and seek happiness instead?

Then of course, there are all the benefits that an oppressive system confers on its most privileged members. Those benefits are in danger of disappearing if enough people quit, so high ranking people will work to keep others in line. Think about all the people who benefit from the monarchy: all the staff who work for the royal family, all the nobles who get their reputation by proximity to the monarch, and everyone in Sweden who in general benefits from the image that a long-standing institution of white, straight, conservative power projects.

And those aren’t people Wilhelm needs to be responsible for (or should be concerned with placating, to be honest). If the monarchy fails because Wilhelm leaves, it’s because there’s always been a fault in the system. Those relying on this outdated system have signed their own fate.

No one knows fully what life will be like after they quit. That’s the radical acceptance part of quitting. You have to make a blind leap, and discover a whole new world once you land. Wilhelm is no more sheltered than anyone before they take this leap. Everyone who quits—a religion, a cult, a job—has to go through this process of rediscovery. You have to learn by doing. People do that successfully all the time, and I believe that Wilhelm can too.

When I was talking about this meta with @bluedalahorse, we talked a lot about Plato’s allegory of the cave. That story goes something like this:

Several prisoners have been kept inside a cave their entire life. They are chained to the spot, and cannot move. They are facing the back wall of the cave. Behind them is a fire, and in between them and the fire, their captors walk back and forth, casting shadows on the wall. Because the prisoners have been kept in the cave their entire life and have only ever seen shadows, they think the shadows are real. They think the only thing that exists in the world is shadows. Until one day, one of the prisoners is set free. He goes outside for the first time, where he is blinded by the sun and overwhelmed by stimulus. But he discovers the real world. He now knows that the shadows he was used to are pale imitations of the real things. He’s so excited that he goes back to tell his fellow prisoners what he has learned. But the prisoners get angry at him for challenging their world view. They don’t believe him, no matter what he says.

There are a lot of ways you can interpret this story. Some people think that Plato is talking about the role of philosophers in society. Some people use it to explain a philosophical concept he writes about elsewhere called “forms”. But I think one thing is clear. Plato didn’t write the allegory of the cave (and it didn’t stick around in human imagination for thousands of years) because he thought you should stay in the cave. Leaving the cave is hard. You will be met with resistance. But discovering the real world, when you were only seeing shadows before, is worth it.

I want Wilhelm to leave to be happy, to see the real world instead of shadows. But I also believe it’s what the story demands. It’s the only answer that makes asking the dramatic question—should Wilhelm conform or rebel?—worthwhile to me.

To be king, but to be the first gay king, would be such an unsatisfactory ending for me. It reminds me of how hard I tried to keep my job—by working from bed, by reducing my hours. My boss could do the best he could to be accommodating, but ultimately working was harming me. You can’t adapt the monarchy enough to make it a non-damaging space for Wilhelm, because there will always be people pressuring him to conform to its straight, stoic ideals. Those ideals have been around for hundreds of years, and to put all of the burden of reforming them on Wilhelm is unfair and unrealistic. If he does stay, I see him struggling to change a system that is not designed for him. Even if he does make small victories for representation or inclusion in that context, it will come at an enormous emotional cost. I just don’t think it’s worth it. Not when there’s a whole world where Wilhelm could be doing good, important work– in whatever arena he chooses– that won’t also come along with inherent emotional trauma.

Believe me, there’s a whole world to be discovered after you walk away from something that’s damaging you. You grieve, yes, but you also grow. Since quitting I’ve been able to love my friends harder, to treat myself better, to give back to the disabled community. I think if you talk to most people who have committed a similar act of radical quitting they’ll say the same thing. I want this future for Wilhelm, but I also want this kind of story to exist for all of us. I want there to be a story that represents those of us who have had to make these kinds of decisions. I want there to be a story that can encourage people who are currently wrestling with their desire to leave and the pressure to stay. And I want there to be a story that shows the hope, the bravery, and the self-belief that is required to walk away and seek a brighter future.

#young royals #prince wilhelm #wilhelm young royals #my meta #my crip media reviews #this turned out to be very long thank you if you read it all

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abiiors · 6 months

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okay here’s one that i wrote a few days back and i’m not 100% sure about it but you were so sweet and i thought might as well you know :) it’s very sweet (i at least tried to make it that way) and i just really hope he’s feeling better now but here it is!!

when she returned to the bus with george, chatting about just how much reverb is too much for the song they were working on, she immediately heard the curses coming from ross’s bunk. she knew he had a few issues while playing as of recently, her diagnosis being a repetitive strain injury in his arm, but he refused to let anyone help, suffering in silence and trying to teach himself how to use kinetic tape to make it all a bit more bearable. when she moved the curtain of his bunk to the side she saw him sat on his bed, shirt off and trying very hard to wrap his upper arm with kt tape but obviously failing to do so. “ross, stop. if you don’t let me do this i will fight you and i mean that.” the soft, slightly pitiful smile on her face told him otherwise as he looked up. she climbed up into the bunk, the space between the two dangerously small and crammed, but neither seemed to care. she carefully removed the tape that was already on ross’s arm, trying her best to make it as painless as possible, though still earning some curses from ross. she couldn’t help herself from looking at the tattoos that were sprinkled around his arm, adorning his skin and making her wonder about the origins. the one on his shoulder she knew about, she was there when he got it. it was dedicated to a close friend of his that sadly passed a few years back and he decided to commemorate him by getting one of his drawings on his right shoulder. when he went in to get the tattoo he asked her to come with him, at first under the pretence of him not getting bored but deep down he knew that it was because he needed her there to support him. he needed her everytime she wasn’t around because he was deeply in love with her. not that she knew that.

she carefully cut the pieces of tape and started applying them to his skin, pressing down at certain points and asking him to move his arm so that she could create more friction and thus make the tape more effective. ross only watched, careful not to get too affected by her touch. by the time she was done she pressed a kiss on his shoulder and he leaned into her touch, not wanting her to go just yet. “thank you”, he lowly said, careful not to break the tension that had been building up between them. she traced her fingers across the delicate art on his arm, and he let her. he usually hated people touching him like that, in such a vulnerable state, but he did not care with her. in fact, he wanted it; craved it even. at some point he turned around and pulled her into him. she smiled as she laid down on his chest, now tracing along the tattoo on his side, one that she rarely saw. her fingers continued to explore his tattoos, and he closed his eyes, savoring the sensation. “you know, i’ll probably fall asleep if you keep that going, love.” he said, opening his eyes to see her already smiling at him. “and what’s so bad about that?” she asked and he pulled her even closer.

ross wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as if he never wanted to let go. the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear was a soothing lullaby, and it didn't take long for the combined warmth and tenderness of their moment to lull them into a state of drowsiness.

as their eyes grew heavy and their breathing slowed, ross whispered, "promise you won't leave, even if I fall asleep."

her heart swelled with affection as she nuzzled closer to him, her lips brushing against his chest as she whispered, "now where else would i go?”, her breath sending shivers down his spine. her closeness was both maddening and comforting, a sweet torture that ross willingly surrendered to.

oh god the YEARNINGGGGGG!!! 😭😩 friends to lovers trope is always just so >>>>>

and also the part about him getting the tattoo was actually so fucking sweet :(( like ngl i have thought about it multiple times about him commemorating a friend in such a heartwarming way 🩷😭

#asks #chatty asks #ross macdonald #ross macdonald x reader

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ofstoriesandstardust · 11 months

Text

on a dime, your whole life can change

or: Ice breaks the news of his cancer diagnosis to his goddaughter

like father, like daughter masterlist

warnings: swearing, cancer diagnoses, canonical deaths, this picks up right off of a piece i’m still writing, like father like daughter pieces are intentionally small, unedited

word count: 1.7k

Your godfather sighs as he sits down next to you on the porch swing, causing you to glance up from your book.

"How you doing?” He asks as you tuck your bookmark in between the pages, shutting the book softly. You shrug.

“I’m okay, I think.”

He hums. “You excited to be back home for a little while?”

You nod. “Shame it’s for this though.”

After your Dad’s accident, you had submitted a request for extended caregiver leave to care for your Dad as healed up. The request had gotten approved, no strings having to be pulled on Ice’s part. It would be unpaid, but honestly, at this point in your life, a paycheck was the last thing you cared about.

Your Dad would be a few weeks out from getting cleared to move back to Miramar from Pensacola so you and Ice had headed home, leaving him under Slider’s watchful eye to get ready.

It would be an adjustment, you being home with your Dad and uncles at the same time. But it was an adjustment you were willing to make and you were all too happy to be close to them again.

“I’m excited to have you here though. Gonna make this conversation a little easier knowing I don’t have to send you back out right after.”

You cock your head. “What do you mean? What conversation?”

He sighs. “Kid, I’m really sorry to have to tell you this on the heels of what has gone down with your Dad but we- well, really, I can’t hide it from you any longer.”

You shift, concern growing in your stomach. “Ice, what’s going on?”

Ice blows out a breath through his teeth, unable to meet your gaze. “I’m really sorry, kid.”

“You’re scaring me, Ice.” You whispered.

Ice’s got the same look on his face that he did when he had to be the one to tell you Carole wasn’t getting better, your Dad too distraught after Bradley’s reaction to the news.

It’s the same cautious look, like he’s going to do his best to keep his goddaughter from falling apart when her whole world has been turned upside down.

“Okay, just gotta rip the band-aid off.” He whispers.

It’s unusual to see him like this, which is making the pit in your stomach grow.

Had someone else been hurt? Was Bradley okay? Had something happened to him? What couldn’t he hide anymore?

“Kid, I have cancer.”

It feels like breathing has suddenly become impossible, all the breath being sucked from your lungs in that moment.

Part of you wants to bite out a bitter laugh, unable to fathom that this is happening again.

How much more unfair could life get?

“It’s up in my throat. The doctor’s are optimistic. Say they caught it early and that they’re...”

Ice’s voice drown out as you swallow, unsure of what to do.

When Carole had been sick, you’d turned to Ice, unwilling to burden your father or Bradley with your emotions about the loss of Carole. They’d needed your support more than they needed your tears and you knew you had to be a rock for them.

Ice had made you feel safe enough to break down, had allowed you to cry to him more than you ever thought you could. It was a needed support, one you wouldn’t have been able to get through without.

But this time, it was Ice who was sick. He’d have to go through the hell that is chemo, lose his hair and his appetite, suffer painful surgeries, wither away right in front of you. He couldn’t be there for you, living the diagnosis every day of his life.

Your Dad would be losing another one of his best friends, Slider too.

And this time, Bradley was gone. There was no comfort or support to be found in his hatred.

This time, you were all alone.

“How’d she take it?” Slider voice murmurs from the living room. They all thought you were asleep, no idea you were sitting on the stairs in Ice and Sarah’s house. You tucked your head into the fabric of your elephant-covered pajama pants. They’d been a gift from your Dad in high school, unsure of what to get you for Christmas. They were a little goofy, but the sentiment and thought was sweet and they still fit, becoming a pair you slipped on when needing a little extra comfort.

“Worse than I thought she would honestly.” Ice mutters back.

“What happened?” Your Dad says. He’d gotten back this evening, a bittersweet arrival. As much as you were relieved to have your Dad near, it’d been tamped down by the knowledge of the fact that he had to have known what Ice was going through.

How long had they all known and chosen to keep it from you, to walk on eggshells around you?

Wasn’t this something you deserved to know, that your godfather, essentially your second dad for all intents and purposes, was dying and there wasn’t a goddamn thing you could do about it?

“I thought for a minute there she might start freaking out or crying or get angry or anything but she was just...” He trails off. “She just shut down.”

“She didn’t talk to anyone for three days.” Sarah says softly.

“That poor kid probably thinks she’s going to lose everyone important to her by the time she’s thirty.” Slider’s voice sounds.

“With the way things are going, she might.” You hear your Dad say.

“Over my dead body are you leaving your daughter Mitchell.” Ice rasps out. “Hell will have to freeze over first.”

“Let’s be realistic here for a second, okay, Kazansky?” Your Dad snaps. “We can be optimistic all we want about the prognosis but she knows just as well as everyone else in this room does that it doesn’t fucking matter how optimistic the doctors are. She watched cancer destroy her only mother figure, who’s to say it won’t destroy you?”

“Mitchell...” Slider sighs, but it’s too late, the sounds of your Dad attempting to leave the room echo in the hallway. “Jesus Christ, Maverick.” Slider says and the sounds of someone helping your Dad back to the couch can be heard even from your position in the hallway. You can’t stand the thought of your still-injured father trying and failing to stand and leave.

“We’re all fucking struggling with this, Pete.” Ice snaps after a few moments. “This isn’t easy on any of us. In case you forgot, I was that girl’s main support when Carole passed. I didn’t forget all the nights she crawled into my bed and cried while she was over here.”

“She needs you Ice, you can’t leave her yet.”

“Oh, and you think she doesn’t need you?”

Ice’s words are harsh, full of heat, and you wince again.

Ice sighs after a few moments. “Pete, I’m going to do everything it my power to be with her. I know what I took on when I agreed to be her godfather. The last thing I would ever want to do is leave that kid alone.”

“I think we should let the two of you talk.” Sarah says softly, and the sounds of her and Slider leaving the room make their way to you.

You know you should move, not knowing what would happen if they all knew you had overheard this conversation but you can’t seem to bring yourself to move.

“Night Sarah.” Slider mutters to the woman as she disappears into her bedroom. Slider pauses as the foot of the stairs when he notices you sitting at the top step. “Kid-”

You stand up, walking back towards your room as Slider’s footsteps follow you. The bedroom door slams behind you, the lock clicking shut, just as Slider reaches it. You can hear him jiggle the doorknob before knocking on the door.

“Kid, let me in please? Talk to me.”

You plop down on the bed before anger thrums through you, propelling you off the bed and wrenching the door open.

“You want me to talk to you? Let’s talk about how it’s not fucking fair I have to lose my godfather over fucking cancer. Let’s talk about how I am in fact, terrified, I am going to lose everyone I love by the time I’m thirty. Let’s talk about the fact that I no longer have anyone I can turn to for support because everyone needs me to support them more than they can handle me being upset. Let’s talk about the fact that I have to be the one to keep it together because-”

You blink, realizing Slider isn’t the one in the doorframe.

It’s Ice.

He sighs. “Kid, you’re not alone in this. It’s going to be okay, I promise. You still have so many people in your life who love you and aren’t going anywhere, including me. I’m gonna fight like hell, I promise-”

You’re slamming the door shut before you even realizing it, the hollow promise striking somewhere deep in you.

Carole had said the same thing long ago. Look at what had happened. Look at all you had lost because of it.

A sob escapes your throat as you fall back on to the bed, hand flying up to silence it.

Your chest physically ached with all the weight you were carrying and there was nothing more than you wanted to hug Bradley in that moment.

The ache made you angrier, confused as to why he seemed to be appearing in your mind so much lately, how the anger was somehow drowning out underneath the knowledge that you missed him.

He should’ve been here to comfort you and somehow the thought makes you angrier, your chest heaving as you sobbed.

Lately, it all felt like drowning. You felt unable to carry the weight of your Navy service, becoming restless in the career you had chosen for yourself.

The career that had always been laid out for you.

You missed Bradley and that made you angrier.

And now, now who’s to say they wouldn’t all become a memory? That you wouldn’t end up all alone?

Would this ever be over? Would this feeling ever end?

Underneath the sobs and the heaving of your chest, through the sounds of the knocks on the bedroom door, you weren’t so sure.

#top gun: maverick fic #top gun: maverick #same mistakes #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #like father like daughter

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