#cancer child

[searedwithscars]

He was three years old when he was diagnosed with cancer.

I didn't understand what death meant. I didn't understand what sickness meant. I was too young, and that is why I became conscious that if you were sick, you were loved and given attention.

It's not their fault that they neglected us for him. It wasn't abusive neglect, though. It was just giving more time to him, giving him more things, giving him more love.

But to a child that impacts you.

It's not his fault that he was given more. He needed his life saved. He was in unimaginable physical, emotional, and mental pain. He was traumatised at too young an age.

And this pained me too.

It wasn't until an eye nurse had come to the school to do her regular check that she saw something abnormal in his left eye. She called her instantly to tell her about this. Told her to take him to the hospital instantly. And what luck that was. At the hospital, they did their tests on him and told them to take fly him up to Paris today to get confirmation. And so she organised this last minute, getting us care, making sure they flew up together, and were seen instantly once they had arrived. In the hospital in Paris, they did further tests, questioned him, questioned them, and finally, they had their confirmation. He had retinoblastoma.

Now, if you don't already know, retinoblastoma is a type of eye cancer that most commonly develops in young children between the ages of zero and two years. For him, it came later than the average. Retinablastoma is multiple tumours that start at the back of the eye. Usually, if one or more of these pesky tumours hits a cell, it tends to be terminal. He was lucky. None of his tumours had hit a cell.

I was confused when they told us what was happening to him. We were too young to understand completely, but she and I knew enough that it was bad. He was flown up to Paris many times after that first time. He was bought toy after toy and had gotten free trips to Disney Land Paris. Met santa and his reindeer. Had the opportunity to be invited into the cockpit with the pilots and fly the place mid-flight. Spent more time with them than we did.

We did go to England to be looked after by others, were given some toys, and had a trip ourselves in Disney Land Paris. We still had that love. At the time, it just didn't compare.

I understand now, and I am okay. I am not sad anymore, or jealous, or angry. I was only five, so of course, I felt all this and more back then. She was only one and could only comprehend enough emotions to have developed child anorexia.

On top of receiving all these things, however, he was going through chemotherapy. Always sick, vomiting, losing his blonde, silky hair. He had his left eye pulled out, a small radiation disc placed inside, and had his left eye put back in place covered by a bandage. I remember his cries of feeling itchy and wanting to scratch his eye. I was sad because he was in pain. A type of catheter placed in his left side of the front of his body near the shoulder. Painful at all times.

Sometimes, he would stay in the hospital. The rest of the time, he was home. We visited him in hospital once, and he told us all about a friend he had made. His friend sounded cool, and I wanted to meet them but never got the chance. The following visit I asked to hear more of his friend, and he told me his friend was gone.

"Where did he go?"

That was the day death was first explained to me. How sad for him, how tragic, that this had happened not to just that friend, but other friends he had made. It took me a long time to fully understand these types of deaths, of his friends having gone.

Finally, his treatments seemed to be working, for he was improving significantly. He had lost sight in his eye almost completely. His description of his left eye sight is completely black around edges of it, with the middle showing very dark shadows of things or movement.

His dream of becoming a pilot being crushed due to this disability after mentioning this to them. His anger at that realisation was extraordinary. There was so much pain, disappointment, frustration. How could that be fair?

I never found out how all this truly impacted him, though we had experienced the after effects of his trauma, and I can only try to imagine what that meant to him then and what it means to him now. I may never find out, for he has always refused to speak of his experience, even to this day. I only know so much by asking her, for when I ask him, he just shuts down.

Maybe he'll open up, maybe he already has to someone else. Maybe.

#all about him #him #cancer #pain #retinoblastoma #nurse #doctor #paris #Disney Land Paris #Santa #reindeer #pilot #cockpit #chilc cancer #cancer child #mental #ment pain #emotional #emotional pain #physical #physical pain #blind #left eye #chemotherapy #chemo #radiation #radiotherapy #cancer treatment #cancer kid #death

[fabiolasshop]

https://i.etsystatic.com/9111315/r/il/f452aa/4166572634/il_fullxfull.4166572634_mxvp.jpg

#handmadejewelry #handmade #etsyhandmade #giftideas #wonder woman #wonder women 1984 #wonder girl #cancer women #cancer #support #support women #cancer incidence #cancer charity #cancer child #daughter cancer #kids cancer

[warlenys]

house md, 8x19 / 8x21.

#what if you referred to your best friend's cancer as your child and then he told you that his dying had nothing to do with you #crazy that house being gregnant with wilson's cancer is canon tho #house md #hilson #house parallels #gif #+

[just-another-turkey]

Trisha Paytas: announces she's having another kid

the british royal family:

#british royal family #trisha paytas #I was here when the queen died #i wanna be here when a king dies #whether by cancer or the birth of a paytas child #im not picky

[antimony-medusa]

So what kind of a dad is q!Phil anyways?

So, Phil getting Tallulah and Chayanne to wear armour and learn how to fight. Also Bad doing this with Dapper, and the Brazilians trying to do this with Richas, and the french with Pomme, but when it gets discussed, it's mostly focusing on Phil because of the contrast of Wilbur not wanting his kids to have to fight. There's some really fun discussion that comes up with that!

And the interesting thing is that when we're trying to pull up other cultural touchpoints to compare phil-and-fighting-and-the-kids to, a lot of the other characters have very specific vibes, so to speak. I was in a discussion the other day where someone compared Phil in this with the dad in Supernatural, and him getting his sons to follow him on hunts. Cause he's a dad training his kids to fight, right? From a very young age? However, I don't think this is a perfect comparison, and I wanted to share the one that comes to mind for me, despite the fact that it deals with some pretty dark topics. This whole post deals with some dark topics, you might want to check the tags, just so you know.

Anyways, I never watched Supernatural, so I didn't do much more than think emoji in the moment when this comparison came up. But I checked in with friends who have watched it, and I think Phil QSMP and John Winchester Supernatural are acting from some pretty different places. John Supernatural is teaching his kids to fight because they have a duty and a lineage and have to help save the world, but at the same time there's this tragedy there that implies that he's so focused on his duty as a hunter that he's not seeing that maybe you don't need the kids for that. They could start when they were older—or maybe they could not start this! He essentially conscripts them into a battle that shapes the course of their lives, as little warriors, and they never have a choice in it. And he's not above using them as bait, because they're warriors, right? The battle is so important? They want to be involved, they want this (of course they want this, you're their dad, and they believe you that this is important). He's a true believer.

Whereas Phil is faced with a world that actively and constantly wants to kill his kids, and he's trying to train them to defend themselves. He's trying to say that there's danger out there, you take care of yourself, I'm going to put myself on the line for you, but if I fail, if I'm not there, you won't be defenseless if it comes down to it. I have had my beef with fics that take on this topic, in fact, because I've seen people write Phil as using his kids as bait to get to the codes or forgetting his kids in his code battle, and that's not how I interpret the character motivattion and actions. For me, the way I see it, Phil is always thinking of how best to defend the eggs, and everything else is in service to this. He's a man with anxiety on an island that wants to kill his kids, not a warrior in an epic battle.

Does this mean that the eggs are gonna grow up and go to therapy about their childhood full of danger? Hell yeah they wll. This is not an ideal childhood. But— and this is the crucial thing— they're going to grow up. Same with Dapper, same with Richas, same with Pomme— living your life under constant need to teleport out to safety is bad, objectively, but when the alternative is living in the moment until you die, I think the teleporting out is better, actually.

And the comparison that comes to mind for me, because of my personal experience, is not examples in media of parents training their kids to fight, but examples in media or in real life of parents dealing with serious and or terminal illness in kids. Cause that's what my family did. And boy is there resonance there.

I don't know of any parent of a kid with cancer who likes putting their kid through treatment. Chemotherapy sucks, radiation sucks, surgery sucks, immunotherapy sucks, none of this is good. I have seen this tear up parents (and siblings) inside. But it's better than letting their kids DIE, isn't it? And before you say well, obviously everyone is on the same page when it comes to things like chemotherapy, I have *seen* people go out there and post at cancer families about how they can't believe they're putting poison in their children's bodies when they should just eat better, etc. (This take reminds me strongly of the "she shoudln't wear armour cause she shouldn't have to fight" take about Tallulah.) Serious illness in kids forces you into terrible situations, but the only saving grace is that they're better than the alternative, you hope.

The only thing that makes me go ehhhhh maybe with Phil and the Mr Supernatural is him letting Chayanne fight, but Chayanne is a kid being hunted whose sister (also being hunted) is disabled, and this happens whether or not Chayanne is involved, and he wants to try and defend her so bad. I don't think saying "let her die if necessary, don't intervene" is going to be a conversation that ends up with less trauma, if you know what I mean. That is simply a situation that has no real win conditions out of it. At least this way he feels like he has some control? (Note: this is a bad situation, there's no getting around it.)

QSMP is so often a story about forces beyond our control trying to destroy us, and while Supernatural and its ilk also has that tone, within Supernatural there's at least a population that doesn't have to be part of the battle, so opting into the battle becomes on some level a choice, and involving children in that is also a choice, one that you can hold up to the standards of allowing children to have a childhood and go "is this ethical". On Quesadilla island, there's literally no opting out of this fight. There are malevolent forces that are directly trying to destroy you, destroy your children, and the question of allowing children to have a childhood has been effectively taken out of your hands. You simply have to do the best with the situation you have, and have a birthday party while keeping the armour on. And this reminds me much more strongly of situations like childhood cancer, than it does of cases in media of people concripting their children into battle.

In both cases children are trying to fight malevolent entities that want them dead, as pushed to fight by their parents, but boy, at least to me, the tone is pretty different. I think the question of "is it self defense or did you choose to be here" is pretty important.

#cw child death #cw cancer #cw childhood cancer #cw child abuse #discourse #qsmp #philza #fandom meta #bad dad phil discussion

[starlet-sky]

#mine #me #youniverse #energy #beach #st Augustine #florida #self #meow #selfie #bikini #mermaid #cancer zodiac #cancer babies #water children #water child

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

Transcript Below:

John Stewart: "Why would the state of Arkansas step in to override parents, physicians, psychiatrists, endocrinologists who have developed guidelines? Why would you override those guidelines?"

Arkansas AG Leslie Rutledge: "Well, I think it's important that [of] all of those physicians, all of those experts, for every single one of them, there's an expert that says we DON'T need to allow children to be able to take those medications. That there are many instances where—"

JS: "Right, but you know THAT'S not true. You know it's not 'For every one there's one.' There's 'These are the established medical—’”

LR: "Well, I don't know that that's not true. I don't know that YOU know that—"

JS: "Then why did you pass a law, then, if you don't? If you don't know that it's true, wouldn't you have done some—"

LR: "Well, I know that there are doctors and that we had plenty of people come and testify before our legislature who said that, uh, you know, we have 98% of the young people who have gender dysphoria, uh, that they are able to move past that and once they had the help they need, no longer suffer from gender dysphoria. 98% without, uh, that medical treatment that—"

JS: "Mhmm. Right. Wow! That's uh, that's an incredibly made-up figure. That—that doesn't comport with ANY of the studies or documentation that exists from these medical organizations. What—what medical association are you talking about of these doctors?"

LR: "Well, we have all of that in our, uh, legislative history and we'll be glad to provide that to you. Uh, I don't have the name of that off the top of my head. I know it's something that—"

JS: "You don't have the name of the organization that—?"

LR: "Off the top of my head.”

JS: "Oh, ok."

LR: "Yes. But we have all of that cited in all of our briefs."

JS: "You're suggesting that protecting children means overriding the recommendations of the American Medical Association, the American Association of Pediatrics, the Endocrine Society..."

LR: "We don't have enough data. We don't have enough to show that these drugs ARE effective and that these children ARE better off and that we should encourage these—"

JS: "'We don't have enough' or there's not enough for YOU? But, let me try and flip it a different way and see if maybe this can help... In Arkansas, if you have pediatric cancer, and obviously we all wanna protect children, I think we established that earlier, whose guidelines do you follow, for pediatric cancer?"

LR: "Well, I think if my child, who's 4, if I was faced with that terrible, uh, decision, then I would be speaking to my doctor. And if my doctor recommended something that I'd disagreed with, then I would get a second opinion and that's what I believe, that these parents need to make sure that they're encouraged to get numerous opinions when they're talking about an irreversible step in their childs—"

JS: "You're not letting them. The state's not saying 'Get another opinion,' what they're saying is, 'YOU CAN'T.' What you're actually saying is the opposite."

LR: "No, that's actually not at all what the state said. The state simply said that you cannot perform these procedures and so parents SHOULD get another opinion that they—and children SHOULD want to have another opinion, because again these are 9, 10, 11, 12 year olds."

JS: "But that's not—So, if your child is suffering from pediatric cancer and the state comes in and says to you, 'They recommend chemotherapy but we're not going to let you do that. You can't. We think you should get a different opinion and here's the organization we think you should get the opinion from. They're not the mainstream, but they're AN organization, so that's how you— that's who you have to be treated by.' Does that sound like something that you would accept?"

LR: "Well, I think that's a very extreme example. That's not at all in line with what we're talking about. We're not saying that at some point, because when you have cancer it literally is—uh, particularly pediatric cancer—and having friends that have lost children to pediatric cancer—"

JS: "Sure."

LR: "Having a 4 year old, I'm sure—"

JS: "I've got some bad news for you. Parents with children who have gender dysphoria have lost children to suicide and depression because it's acute."

LR: "They absolutely have."

JS: "And so these mainstream medical organizations have developed guidelines through peer-reviewed data and studies, and through those guidelines they've improved mental health outcomes. So, I'm confused why you follow AMA guidelines and AAP guidelines for all other health issues in Arkansas, because we checked, but not for this."

LR: "It's simply saying let those young people who are facing gender confusion and dysphoria, allow them to become adults and to make that decision. Allow a child to be a child."

JS: "So, here's where we have our—our crossroads. You've made the determination that protecting these children means not giving them access to the guidelines and care that have been designed by medical and mental health professionals for children expressing gender dysphoria and I'm asking you, again, what are your qualifications to step in and say, 'No, keeping you from that care is protecting you.' You've made that determination."

LR: "Well, these are irreversible decisions that these children at these young ages are making or that their parents are making—"

JS: "They're not making the decision. You're making it sound like a 9 year old walks into a doctor's office and says, 'Give me some testosterone.' And the doctor goes, 'Oh thank God, because we're wanting to create an army of transgenders, because we're crazy!' And they go right in, like—"

LR: "No. We passed a law to protect the children in Arkansas and I think that's what is important."

JS: "Again. The medical community disagrees with you that that's protecting children."

LR: "Well not ALL of the medical community..."

JS: "Who doesn't? Who—?"

LR: "We have had experts testify here in Arkansas."

JS: "Ok, from what medical organizations?"

LR: "Well, we have all of those in our briefs and I apologize that I wasn't prepared to have a Supreme Court argument today in front of you, but I—we are going to have arguments on this case—"

JS: "Right..."

LR: "—when the time comes."

Watch the episode, including the full interview, for free here:

#us politics #the problem with jon stewart #jon stewart #tweet #twitter #arkansas #Leslie Rutledge #AG Leslie Rutledge #transphobia #trans rights #trans #transgender rights #transgender healthcare #lgbtqia+ rights #lgbtqia+ #healthcare #us healthcare #tw child death #tw suicide #pediatric cancer #american medical association #American Association of Pediatrics #endocrine society #gender dysphoria #gender dysmorphia #2022 #transcript #apple tv #the war over gender #gender affirming healthcare

[duskdragonxiii]

im just saying they got so lucky it was Shura that found baby athena and not Cancer Deathmask who wouldn't have hesitated

#he would never miss an oppertunity to kll a child #saint seiya #cancer deathmask #pisces aphrodite #dusky art #I DONT KNOW IF THIS IS TOO SICK TO POST BUT I PROMISE ITS ENTIRELY IN CHARACTER #ask to tag??

[daddysroyalwhore]

Messed up Pretty little girls show off their bodies online for strangers 🫶🏻🎀✨

#daddysroyalwhore #daddyswhore #mine #pansexual #pan not bi #queer #inked babes #inked girls #alt gf #alt girls #tattoos make me feel better #daddys brat #daddy’s little girl #bd/sm brat #cnc k!nk #sl*t #cnc brat #cnc free use #bd/sm daddy #daddys property #rough cnc #moon child #bipolar cancer #cancer #messed up

[benoitblanc]

making an emily-arc gifset and screaming internally. why the fuck did they do that to scully

#also kind of why the fuck did they do that to mulder. like obviously it is WAY worse for scully but imagine: #your best friend slash love of your life calls you. she's just found out that a. she can't have kids #(which you have known for several months but didn't tell her because she was DYING OF TERMINAL BRAIN CANCER) #and b. when she was kidnapped and medically raped by the government a child resulted from this and she's only now found her #and you fly out to them and the little girl is darling and precocious and terrified and your partner ADORES her #and seeing them together hits you over the head with how badly you want this for her. how badly you want this for YOU #how any children you were ever going to have would have always been hers #and you make the girl laugh and you threaten the men who did this to her. you want everything to help her. and she dies anyway #your pseudo-mother-in-law calls from the hospital. your partner's brother just had a baby #you watch your partner fall apart and you grieve for her loss but also for yours. that was your daughter too. or she would have been #arwen.text #the x files

[trolagygirl2022]

𝒜𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝑜𝒾𝒹 𝒞𝒽𝒾𝓁𝒹 (𝟦𝟧𝟪𝟢) 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒾𝑔𝓃𝓈

Aries ♈ Your child could be very ambitious, courageous and maybe even stubborn. I'm getting a feeling they may be the type to not think before they speak lol. They can be trouble-makers. They may have red hair, be healthy/have an athletic body/ be athletic. Your first child could be a boy or have masculine energy to them.

Taurus ♉ Your child could be a great singer or have a nice voice. They may have nice jawlines or have a square shaped face. They can have a stable calm personality. They can also be conventionally attractive, they can be a girl or have feminine energy.

Gemini ♊

They can be very bubbly and cheerful! You can possibly have twins too. They can be tall and look younger, have bigger eyes. Your child can be a natural chatterbox and very curious as well. They can be great with social media and languages (overall have great learning skills)

Cancer ♋

Your child could be pretty emotional/sensitive in general. I'm getting they can be very clingy to their moms/look more like their moms. Big eyes/Fair skin/being small or just looking tiny can be prominent features.

Leo ♌

They can be very expressive/have expressive personalities. Also your child can be famous/attract fame as well. Long thick hair is a common trait. They can maybe be sassy/confident and be creative. They can have this "lion look" (idk how to explain it my school's counselor is a Leo and looks like a lion) or look like their fathers.

Virgo ♍

They can have this sorta "doll-like" look. Probably have smaller features or look younger. They can be a perfectionist and tend to criticize themselves often. They can be great doctors/like to be generous and help others.

Libra ♎ They can be conventionally attractive, have good symmetry overall very "graceful/harmonious" looks/vibes from them. They may be into aesthetics/fashion all of sorts and could be in a big social circle

Scorpio ♏

They can have a mysterious look about them. Roman nose, dark eyes and hair, intimidating aura to them. They could be shy or quite misunderstood to others and may like being alone. They can have strange, unusual interests like the occult, death etc.

Sagittarius ♐

Your child can be tall-VERY tall with expressive faces. Also can be athelic. They can have an intrest in traveling, languages and the sort. They could be mixed (diffrent race than you). Loves adventure and new places.

Capricorn ♑

They can be quite mature for their age/hardworking. Also may have strong facial structure and look mature for their ages. They could be that child that people say is intelligent for their age.

Aquarius ♒

You have a quite unique child! They easily stand out from the crowd and could be that child that is seen as "weird" by others. Could have longer faces or just look unique in general. Very outgoing and quirky child. They can have unique interests and a big imagination and could be skilled in technology.

Pisces ♓

Possibly have a "dreamy beauty" or vibe from them. Either look younger or have an ethereal look to them. They can be empathetic, just a sweet child in general. They can be quite creative and could excel in the arts or just be humanitarian for their sweet soul.

This can be applied for degrees as well! Thank you so much for reading and please don't copy my work :)

#astrology #asteroid child #pisces #scorpio #taurus #aries #sagittarius #virgo #capricorn #gemini #leo astrology #aquarius #libra #cancer #astro notes

[sunriseseance]

Hi, I’m so sorry this ask is long and probably messy but I saw you talking about Allison and Klaus and I’ve been thinking about them a lot so here’s something:

I’ve seen a lot of people hating on Allison at the end of season 3 for making a deal with Reginald and “getting Luther and Klaus killed” when she clearly didn’t know that was gonna happen and there’s no way she would agree to do that.

Like they specifically have a problem with her making a deal with Reggie but, what do they think Klaus was doing? Do they think he was too stupid or too naive to make a deal? Is it not a deal if they don’t shake hands? Because I think Klaus was playing his own game and they just fell for the “I’m hanging out with dad because he’s nice now” act.

Reginald tried to use both of them to get the others on board with his plan but that didn’t work because, despite everything, they still respected their siblings decisions. Allison could have rumored everyone and be done, but instead she committed the crime of… actually talking to them and maybe putting on a fake smile? Klaus could’ve been very manipulative and insistent, enough that Lila told him to back off.

In the end, Luther got killed because they weren’t willing to go that far and Reginald had to find another way.

Yep yep yep. I think you are 100% correct. Allison clearly did not know what she was agreeing to, and she risked everything she could to undo the harm.

People have been falling for Klaus's shtick since the first week after season 1 came out. He says he is just a carefree silly who doesn't know better and can't do anything and the fandom says "yep!" or "I can't believe the writers would do this to him" instead of looking at the incongruencies as deliberate choices for them to examine. This is regrettably not new.

I think it is worth SERIOUSLY questioning why people are so charitable with Klaus and assume the absolute worst possible of Allison. Because you have hit the nail on the head. They are extremely similar characters, who have almost 100% the exact same flaws, and yet one is the fandom darling and the other's tag is about 80% people talking about how much they hate her.

#the umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #allison hargreeves #tua meta #HOW FUN to use that tag again thank you anon!!!!!!!!!!!! #I missed out on s3 meta because I was doing chemo for stage 3 cancer #so it is nice to get back into it. #also: I am going to hear about Allison sexually assaulting Luther #1. she stopped. She realized what she was doing and she stopped. #2. Klaus has issues in that department as well #which is natural!!! They were child trafficked soldier billionaires and both used their charisma or LITERAL POWERS to get what they want #Of fucking course they are messed up in that way #She stopped. She is not an irredeemable monster. She is a person who went through THE WORST THING POSSIBLE and had some nasty reactions #Get the fuck off her ass

[wingedcat13]

Synovus: A Wishing Star

[Canonically, this takes place before ‘Call Me Menace’ - which is why there’s a notable lack of Alexandria and Minerva in this segment. This was requested by an Anon, with the prompt of Synovus being asked for by a Make a Wish child, through the Make a Wish foundation.]

[Trigger warnings for childhood cancer, descriptions of illness and hospitals, and discussions of suicide. Reference is also made to the possibility of substance abuse. Unlike most of my writing, for this, I cannot promise you will find this ending happy.]

“Your name came up today,” Rosie called up to you, laboriously walking laps around the cafeteria.

“Of course it did.” You replied laconically, keeping a careful eye on her progress from a perch in the rafters. Your shadows were ready to catch and steady her if she stumbled, though you both pretended you were too occupied with your knitting. “I am an incredibly interesting person. On a completely unrelated note, tell Dr. Grouch that he will receive payment shortly.”

That wasn’t an epithet, ‘Dr. Grouch.’ It was genuinely the man’s name. Dr. Jeremy Grouch, a pediatric cancer specialist, who had the good fortune of being the best choice for you to kidnap when Rosie had finally told you why she’d been half-joking about retirement. He was no longer your ‘guest,’ having returned to the mainland full time a few weeks prior, but he still communicated with Rosie quite often.

A bark of laughter had Rosie pausing, out of breath, to brace herself against the wall. She turned to rest her back against it, but since she didn’t sit, you didn’t jump down to see if she was alright. Even if you had stopped knitting.

“Not for the money.” Rosie assured you, when she had caught her breath enough to reply without wheezing. “He thinks you’re more than generous.”

“Dr. Grouch could stand to live up to his name a bit more.” You tsk’ed, “I kidnapped him, forced him to work for me. He didn’t even haggle.”

Not that this would have done him much good in the beginning. Historically, you did not respond well to threats or extortion. But you did respect a good hustle, and you were fairly certain that Dr. Grouch had been aware he could’ve pushed for more of a reward once Rosie was declared in remission. He hadn’t taken the opportunity.

“He isn’t hurting for wealth.” Rosie pointed out. The sardonic note to her voice had made you smile. You and your minions were in the business of exploiting greed and committing evils, but that did not make any of you less inclined to judge others for anything less than your own morality demanded. And that often included each other.

But Rosie’s tone shifted, becoming something lighter, “He said one of his patients asked to meet you.”

“What?”

“One of his patients wants to meet you.” Rosie repeated patiently. “Wished for it, even.”

You forced your tone to remain light, glad you were up in the rafters where she couldn’t see your body language. “Well, there’s a rarity. How many people ever say ‘I wish to meet Synovus?’”

Rosie sighed. “Usually just people who want to kill you.”

“Are we certain that isn’t what the child wants? I’m assuming it’s a child, adults usually know better.” You picked up another stitch, fumbled it, did it again. This time it stuck.

It wasn’t the idea of a child trying to kill you that had you so… disoriented. You’d been responsible for the deaths of a lot of parents over the years - you wouldn’t be surprised if there had been hundreds of vendettas sworn against you, or all villain kind, or even the heroes who had failed to stop you, over the years. But kids - children - you had a soft spot for.

You remembered too clearly what it was like to be young, sheltered, and out of control of your life. It was debatable, some days, how much of that still applied to you in some way or another.

“I’d bet on the kid.” Rosie remarked.

“I-“ You twirled one knitting needle, intending to point it at her, and snagged it in the trailing end of your yarn instead. It didn’t matter, because she couldn’t see you. “- take offense on the child’s behalf that you would doubt them.”

“Oh yeah?” Rosie perked up, “Offended enough to defend their honor in person?”

Frowning, you set down your knitting again. “What are you asking me here, Rosie?”

“I want to know if you’ll honor the kid’s Wish.”

There was something in the way she said it that gave you pause. You mulled it over.

“When you say ‘wish,’ you don’t just mean a general expressed desire, do you.”

It wasn’t much of a question, but Rosie answered anyway, “Nope. I mean the Wish. Apparently they hadn’t wanted to say anything, because they didn’t think anyone would let them, but they were talking to Dr. Grouch, and asked where he’d been -“

You groaned. You’d been assured of his adherence to HIPAA, but hadn’t pushed too hard on the ‘never tell anyone where you’ve been, ever, on pain of excruciatingly over described death’ angle. Maybe you should’ve.

“- yeah, I know, but apparently he only told the kid and asked them to keep it a secret, and the kid ‘lit up like it was Christmas.’” Rosie relayed this information, complete with air quotes, without moving from the wall.

To avoid thinking about the idea of being anyone’s last, true Wish - the big W, the heart’s desire, the crown of a bucket list - you instead thought about how Rosie had trapped you. You couldn’t just disappear because then she’d be alone, and could still collapse. You couldn’t call her physical therapy completed for the day yet either, because she hadn’t finished this lap.

Evil, your minions. Absolutely evil.

You sighed, sure Rosie would feel it, even if she couldn’t hear it at this distance. “Very well.” You conceded, morose. “When are we meeting this little miscreant?”

—-

Hospitals were not easy for you to break into. Not when you were in costume, at least. You could get terrifyingly far in a white coat with a coffee cup and a clipboard, but that came down to timing and confidence and an aura of ‘fuck off, I am incredibly busy’ that you’ve always felt most doctors cultivated on purpose.

That didn’t really work when you were in all black with a cape and a helmet. And this was a children’s cancer ward, so it wasn’t like you could just wait till everyone went home. Windows didn’t open up here either.

So you’d had Dr. Grouch let you in from the helipad on the roof.

“You’ve taken the precautions I requested?” He asked, as you paused outside of the ward itself. “Fully clean, as you would have for Ms. Rosie? You will not touch anything you do not have to, and will call for assistance if she seems overwrought?”

“Yes, Dr. Grouch.” You replied, accepting another antiseptic wipe for your gloves. “I am here to answer a summons. That is all. I swear that your charge will not come to harm from me.”

You did not point out he had been the one to arrange this meeting. His face made a strange expression, as though he were surprised, and surprised at being surprised, and a bit disappointed in himself for that sequence of events. Still, he recovered quickly.

“At least I do not have to remind you to wear a mask.” He granted, in an attempt at levity. Luckily for you both, you didn’t actually need to reply, because he was already triggering the ward doors for you to enter.

While Grouch moved to the ward station, motioning to calm the various staff on duty, you moved with purpose for the room you’d been directed to earlier. Grouch was telling the staff that he’d found someone willing to stand in for you, as a way of reassuring them. You weren’t sure they’d buy it, but it really wasn’t your problem for the moment.

You moved quietly. You weren’t sure whether or which other rooms were occupied, and you didn’t intend to scare anyone who hadn’t requested to see you tonight. For that same reason, you double checked the number on the door you opened, and lifted it faintly on its hinges, that it would open smoothly and as silently as you could make it.

The room beyond was dim, if not completely dark. The corridor behind you was also dimmed for the night cycle, trying to give the ward’s occupants a chance at sleeping, though the ward station was still well-illuminated. You made sure its light wouldn’t give you a halo or shadow as you entered, and quietly shut the door behind yourself.

You aren’t familiar enough with hospitals to say whether this room is average or not. Tiled floors, the bed that is also a gurney, sparse furniture, windows on the far wall. There are signs of life here, in the form of some decaying flowers on the dresser, with several cards propped around their vase where the bed’s occupant can see. A television is mounted near the ceiling on an extendable arm, but it’s off for now.

There’s a few sources of dim light - the distant aura of the streetlights casts the bars supporting the windows on the wall across from the bed. A floor light illuminates the tile enough to show any potential tripping hazards. The odd blinking light on the medical equipment provides a dash of color to the gloom.

And in the bed, there is a lump curled on its side, as far as the IV line and monitors will allow it, blankets pulled tight over the shoulder and tucked near the chin. Dr. Grouch told you some basics about the patient before you reached this floor, so you know who you are supposed to be meeting. You feel bad for waking her, but you’ve been assured she doesn’t sleep well anyway, and is likely awake. Judging by the faint rustling of a body’s small movements, that judgement was accurate.

You are reminded of Dr. Grouch’s planned lie, out in the hall. You do not want this child to think they are being tricked. So you stay where you are, in the deeper shadow of the door-well, and you summon your shadows to life.

The window frame shadows make an excellent trellis for your branching additions - they stretch out, forming words in deeper darkness than the natural shadow from which they are woven. If you are mistaken, if this is the wrong room, if the girl sleeps, you won’t have disturbed them.

But you see the streetlight illuminate the planes of a too-sharp face as it turns to focus bleary eyes on what you’ve written.

Hello, Loralai.

At fourteen years old, Loralai should still have the roundness of youth. She does not. Nor is she quite skeletal, despite the advanced nature of her illness. It almost seems, in the half light, as though a slight push would be all that was necessary to send her in either direction: back to the hale softness of health, or further on to the sharp stillness of death.

She blinks. Her eyes widen, then narrow, then widen again. You belatedly wonder if perhaps she needs glasses. Or what if she’s dyslexic? Your shadow-words are hardly the easiest things to read. Damn it, Synovus, now is not the time for posturing and-

“Synovus?” Asks a breathless, whispering voice.

“In the flesh.” You reply, because you are a melodramatic moron. Still, your voice is quiet, and you remain unmoving.

There’s some more rustling. The bed is already mostly elevated, so Loralai doesn’t need to try and sit up so much as readjust how she’s sitting. There’s a click of a lamp - and then there’s a real light source in the room, even if it’s dulled by the lampshade.

You step forward as Loralai rubs the spots from her vision with one hand. There’s an IV catheter taped to the back of it from some recent event, the bruising around it just beginning to ripen. You don’t remember what that might mean, if anything.

As she gets her vision back and examines you, you turn your helmet, pretending to survey the room. Eyes bright with curiosity flick from the helmet to the cape to the patterns of padding over your torso. She does not seem scared, but then, why would she be? Dr. Grouch had informed you she was well aware her case was terminal. You may be a specter of death to some people, but this child has already started staring down the real thing.

“You are Loralai Weber?” You ask, turning back to face her directly.

She nods, leaning back against her pillows. You can see exhaustion on every line of her too-young face, but it seems not to have any power over her at the moment. “Yes. I didn’t think you’d actually come to see me.”

You gesture aimlessly, “I am not often asked for.” You reply candidly. “You’ve piqued my interest. And.. one could say I was in the neighborhood.”

Loralai’s expression brightens, “Are you going to attack the hospital?”

You frown. The prospect seems to excite her. Still, you keep your voice casual, noncommittal, “Not tonight, at least.”

“Damn.” Loralai sounds disappointed now. You muffle your amusement at her cursing as she continues, “Any time soon, maybe? Like, in the next week?”

She can’t see you raise your brows, so you tilt your head to one side, “You sound almost hopeful, Ms. Weber. Why could that be?”

Loralai averts her gaze for a moment, plucking slowly at the top blanket of her bed. This is the moment of truth, really. You spent hours trying to figure out what you might be asked for:

Could you kill someone for her? A doctor, a nurse, another patient who was really annoying? Or could you attack the hospital, so she could help you wreak havoc, and have the chance to feel as powerful as a Villain? Alternatively, what if she were the one to stop you? You were dreading the deathbed request that you ‘turn good,’ but that doesn’t seem to be forthcoming. Maybe she simply wishes to witness a hero battle up close, and needs you to initiate it. Or-

“I want you to kill me.”

You freeze. Most of you, anyway, as your stomach seems to have left out the ground floor entrance. You had not anticipated this. You feel like you should have.

Remorseless for your shock, Loralai continues, managing to look directly at your helmet face as her words spill over each other, “I know I’m dying, and that I don’t have long left, but I’ve been dying for months, and I just feel worse and worse every day, and I - I want to die fast, not slow. I want it to be over. You - you could make it quick for me, couldn’t you?”

You have not been inclined towards religion for a very long time. Yet, in this moment, you see the appeal of dropping to your knees and offering a fervent prayer of gratitude to whoever or whatever might be listening that you gave Dr. Grouch your word in the hall. You do not want to answer Loralai’s question, or know what your answer would be. You refuse to acknowledge the burgeoning answer within you.

The horror of it all still threatens to overwhelm you. The shadows in the room thicken, automatically reaching for you to provide shelter from unfortunate truths and uncomfortable conversation. This is why she asked for you. Because you are evil. Because you are terrible enough to meet a child face to face and kill them at their own request. Because you are not beholden to law, morality, or sympathy.

The black pit of despair yawns, and it is only by the barest shred of your willpower that you stay out of it - as awful as you feel in this moment, as much as you know you have only delayed your own suffering, the fact remains: you are not the one dying here.

It does not matter how you feel, looking at someone younger than you were when you finally found freedom, and knowing they will never reach the same age, the same feeling. It does not matter how you feel about their request. Loralai Weber sits in a hospital bed, terminal at 14 years old, and she is suffering badly enough to seek the Scourge of the West Coast.

So you scrape yourself together, and move to the end of her bed.

“May I sit?”

Loralai nods, brow still furrowed, and shuffles her feet so you can avoid accidentally sitting on them. You perch there, partially leaning on the rail at the foot of the bed, and watch her for a long moment.

“Yes.” You say, finally. “I could make your death swift. There is little you could do to stop me.”

You have Loralai’s undivided attention. When you stop speaking, she waits. The clearer it becomes that you will not say more, the further her face falls. “Could.” She says tonelessly. “But won’t.”

“No.” You confirm quietly. “I will not.”

“Why?” Loralai cries. She tries to gesture to herself, to the room that she’s in. “You’ve killed so many people! What’s one more to you? Why not me? Is it - do you want me to suffer, is that it? Would this be too merciful for you?”

You let her yell, and gesture, even when she comes within several inches of you. “No, Loralai. I do not want you to suffer. But nor do I think this would be an act of mercy.” You avoid addressing the issue of your body count.

Loralai looks offended and confused, gaping at you for a moment. “Does this look like a life worth living?” She demands.

Your answer is without hesitation, “Yes.”

The girl’s face contorts with incredulity, then despair, then anger. Her eyes are increasingly red-rimmed, and there’s a wet quality to her wavering voice when she responds, “Fuck you.”

Grimly, you brace yourself for much worse before the night is over. She hasn’t ordered you out yet, so you have to attempt to explain. Even if you cannot give her what she wants, you can be an outlet for her anger, and the face she cannot show to her doctors.

“There are cards on the dresser.” You point out.

“Classmates I’ve never even met.” Loralai responds flatly.

“Flowers, too.”

“Another parent bought some for the whole floor after their kid bit it. It’s a pity gift to make them feel better, nothing to do with me.”

“You still have family.”

“So they should get the honor and joy of watching me die? Paying a fortune for every extra hour I sit here and wait for it to be my turn?”

“It is worth it, to them.” You explain, matter-of-fact. “Every penny. Every extra shift. Every loan. Every night on your fold-out couch. How did you convince your mother not to be here tonight?”

Loralai flinches. “She has a bad back.” She mutters, “She - it’s better for her to be home, in a real bed. And so what if it’s worth it to them? What if it’s not worth it to me? Can’t I choose how and when I die?”

You sigh, “If that were true, the world would be full of immortals. And suicides. You realize that is what you asked of me, yes? An assisted suicide?”

Loralai draws back at the word, but doesn’t deny it. “It’s not like it would be anything new for you.”

The truth of that statement is painful. For a moment, you hear a distant ringing with no physical source. You are acutely aware of the shadows in this room - their patterns under the bed, on the wall, the sky behind the window, in the spaces under your skin-

“I am not your tool.” You rasp, before remembering that Loralai couldn’t possibly know about your past. She is a teenager. A hurt one. They always have a gift for striking true, even when they lash out blindly.

You take a deep breath, and suppress the shadows again. You don’t want to know how far up your arms they reached before you regained your senses. “And I will not be baited into killing you either. You are right - I’ve killed. Plenty. I will again. But I do so for my own reasons, and not because someone asks me to. You asked for me by name, Ms. Weber, out of all of the villains on the West Coast, so I’m guessing you know that.”

Loralai opens her mouth to respond - then looks away.

“You have every right to be angry.” You continue into the silence, “With me, with the people around you. With the doctors and nurses for how often they check in and the poking and prodding they do. With the kitchen for the quality of the hospital food. With your parents for not sparing you this life, or being overbearing in their concern, or not being able to balance what it is you really need.”

You pause. Loralai doesn’t respond. You continue, “I would be angry. I would be furious with every car that passed by and honked its horn, because I’m stuck up here dying, and they only care about the stupid traffic. And I would be even more angry about the fact I can’t tell anyone that without becoming the bad guy, who can’t take their situation with grace.”

“But you won’t kill me.” Loralai says finally, “Before I do something I regret. Or become a husk of myself.”

This time, it’s your turn to remain silent. Loralai turns to look at you, even if she can’t find your eyes in the mask. She’s crying now, but so far managing to hold off actual sobs, “Why can’t I be selfish? Just once?”

You offer her your hands, and aren’t surprised or offended when she doesn’t take them.

“You should be selfish.” You tell her, and the ferocity in your voice takes her aback. “You should be as selfish and greedy as you can. You should seize every moment - every conversation with your parents, every breath of conditioned air, every chance you get to actually smile. Even if you only get one more of those, Loralai, it’s one more than you would get if I did what you’ve asked. Dying isn’t selfish. It isn’t selfless either. It just is, the same way taxes are due and commercials always take too long and the drivers outside your window have road rage. It’ll happen whether you want it to or not. Don’t lean into it.”

Converse to your own advice, you lean towards Loralai, adding, “Kick the bastard in the balls.”

On reflex, she gives you a confused, watery half-smile.

“Yes!” You cry, as though this is a great victory. “Just like that! Rip and tear your joy from the universe.”

That wins you a snort - though the amusement doesn’t last.

“I’m not strong enough to do that.” Loralai deflects, turning a hand over in your general direction. “I’m not like you. I can’t literally steal happiness from - banks, or whatever it is you rob.”

“Banks.” You admit, “Though usually their corporate offices instead of the average buildings. Irrelevant, however: how many of my fights do you actually see me win?”

Loralai frowned. “Uh….”

You don’t leave her hanging long, “It depends on your definition of ‘victory’ really - but if I count it like the heroes do, where a victory is when I have my opponent in my custody, I haven’t won a single fight in over ten years. My track record is abysmal.”

(This is not strictly true - but it does count for your fights with heroes. Interpersonal villain matters you handle rarely make the news.)

“So, what, you’re bad at your job?” Loralai says bluntly, sarcasm tingeing her voice.

“I’m fantastic at my job.” You can’t help the rebuttal, it’s too much in your nature. “Because even if I don’t take down the hero who comes after me - and let’s face it, they’ll keep sending them endlessly, it’s exhausting - I still do what I set out to do. Sometimes that’s steal something. Kill someone. Make a scene. On bad days, just get out and away. And if you use that metric, well, darling, my track record is spectacular.”

Loralai considers this for a moment, staring into the middle distance between you. It’s impossible to figure out what she’s actually thinking of.

“Your metaphors suck.”

Well okay then. “My metaphors are elegant contrivances -“ You give up when Loralai gives you a look, and sigh instead.

Still, what you’ve said seems to have made some difference. Loralai has stopped crying, and she doesn’t feel as.. raw, as before. You hope it’s the right kind of difference, and that you haven’t just chased her further into a shell. You wait for her to break the silence again.

“So you think I should live, for the people around me?” She challenges, indicating the flowers and cards. You both know that’s only a fragment of your argument, but you’re willing to play ball.

“Nope.” You reply succinctly. “I think you should live for you and your own experiences. However, I think you are currently in a position where you have to see your joys in others before you can see them for yourself. If they anchor you, use it.”

She’s staring at you now, expression unreadable. “And you think that will get better.”

You almost answer ‘yes’ - but you know that isn’t quite what she’s asking. There’s a second half to that statement that is a question, left unspoken: ‘will it get better before I die?’

And for all of your lies, you answer her honestly. “I don’t know.”

Loralai nods. You want to clarify, to explain that even a chance is a chance worth taking. You want to give her some of your own rage at the world, the defiance that makes it possible to simply refuse to die. The conviction that let you kill a god.

No, maybe not that. You’re not sure that would be a blessing after all.

“Okay.” She says, after several moments. “Fine. I get to live. For now. But when I die -“ Loralai’s attention abandons the far wall and the middle distance, zeroing in on you, “- if my life gets any worse between now and then, if I don’t get any more good stuff like you’ve described, I’m haunting you.”

You believe her. “I believe you.” You say solemnly. “And there are few things in this world more terrifying than a teenage ghost. No, that isn’t sarcasm, I’m serious. Once-“

—-

You spend the rest of the hour telling stories of the teenaged ghost you’d met once in New Orleans, back when that wasn’t quite anyone’s territory. It’s not nearly enough time to share all of her stories - but it is enough that you remember her fondly, and smell the faint scent of bergamot and citrus that always heralded her presence.

When you spoke to her more regularly, you teased her about being a ghost who smelled like Irish Spring, and she ensured your cape got caught on everything it possibly could. You feel a tug on it, as you are moving to leave, and understand the prompt.

“Here.” You tell Loralai, unclasping your cape from your shoulders, and draping it over the bed.

“Does this have magic powers, or something? Is it bulletproof?” Loralai lifts it’s edge, rubbing the fabric between her fingers. She’s in higher spirits, but the bags under her eyes have deepened. She’s also cold, though you don’t think you’d be able to get her to admit it.

“Nah.”

“Then why would I want it?” Remarkable, how little your status matters to teenagers. You aren’t sure if it’s your curse or a trait of the species.

“Capes are cool.” You reply confidently.

There are other reasons too - it gives your ghost friend an anchor to stay with her better, it’s warm, it will remind her this wasn’t a dream. If her family needs to, they can sell it to cover some of the medical bills, since (unlike some heroes and villains) you rarely leave a trace behind, and collectors would love to get ahold of one of your capes. Actually, Tallflawes might even buy it at an exorbitant price, just to taunt you with it. But this isn’t a lie: capes are cool.

“Whatever.” Loralai says sleepily, resting back on her pillows, your cape tucked up under her chin. “Goodbye, Synovus.”

“Goodbye, Loralai Weber.” You say gently. You aren’t sure if she even notices your shadows flip the switch on the bedside lamp, returning the room to darkness. Your shadows muffle your exit back into the hall.

You leave as quickly as possible, after that.

—-

The good thing about being a dramatic fool on purpose, is that when you are having a public meltdown, it can appear as though you are simply performing again. The shadows contorting and swirling around you? Ah, Synovus, making an entrance. Disappearing between one blink and the next to the unobservant, because you’ve turned and booked it into the dark? A classic exit.

Your minions know you too well for that facade to hold. They also know you too well to ask.

You stalk down the halls, lights seeming to ripple in your wake with the amount of shadows you’re dragging, like a toddler with their blanket on their way to throw a tantrum. But you skip the training room. You wind up in the kitchen, as Oflok watches from a distance.

You spend an indeterminable amount of time staring at the collection of alcohol. You don’t indulge, because you are terrified of what might happen if you lose control of yourself. You know you are a walking bomb. Your minions can partake as they like, however, and today, reminded of how destructive you are, you want very badly to join them. To get wasted beyond memory.

“I want you to kill me.”

You get as far as reaching up one hand for a bottle. You don’t know which, you didn’t bother to read the labels. You lower your hand. Spin on your heel. And leave.

—-

It’s Rosie and Doll who hover in the corner, silent witnesses while you dig through the cabinets in the infirmary. You grab the first ampoule of a drug that looks like it would force you out of your mind that you can get your hands on. You have a tray laid out with syringe, bandages, tourniquet, disinfectant wipes, before you realize what you’re doing.

“Does this look like a life worth living?”

You walk out without a word.

—-

The grave at the bottom of the island is not well tended. It is not a monument to be remembered. This is the third time you have visited it since you stopped obsessively checking for signs of disturbances, in case it’s occupant decided to crawl back out.

You tell the empty space about Loralai Weber. What she looked like, what she asked of you, what that means. This time, you’re free to cry, though whether it’s for her or yourself, you’ll never be able to parse. By the end, you are screaming in the dark cave, knowing it’s all pointless at this stage in the game.

The man in the grave could heal himself, when he wanted. And very rarely, when he was convinced it was ‘appropriate,’ he could heal others too. He wouldn’t have counted Loralai Weber as ‘appropriate’ for his gift. You would. It doesn’t matter, though.

It’s the one part of his powers you never inherited.

—-

[Thank you for reading Synovus: A Wishing Star - if you want to read more of Synovus, you can find the rest of their stories on my blog, in the pinned post. Further, if you want to find out more about the Make A Wish Foundation, you can read stories of children they've helped (in rather different ways than Synovus) on their website, or donate here.]

[I do not have a personal story to share for Loralai's inspiration. However, I did tap into my experiences as a chronically ill individual, and the mental state I experienced both before and during treatment. There are still days I wonder as Loralai does - but I wholeheartedly believe as Synovus says: This life is worth living. It is for you too.]

#synovus #synoverse #Synovus: A Wishing Star #tw cancer #please dm me if you feel additional tags are necessary! #reader discretion advised #tw suicidal ideation #tw implied child death #tw self destructive behavior

[candlefox99]

Hunter and his child, who I definitely didn't abandon at Five Pebbles after I took that picture

#rain world #rain world fanart #hunter rain world #rw fanart #in my defense he couldn't follow me to ascend #and the top of five pebbles is prob safer than sky islands or farm arrays #and i wasn't backtracking to moon no sir #everyone for themselves child you gotta learn young #back in my day we developed turbo cancer and APPRECIATED IT #ungrateful

[ratsalad]

chase's reaction to finding out house has cancer (which he didn't) tugs so violently on my heartstrings... no preaching no proselytising no duplicitousness just "i'm sorry you have cancer i'm going to hug you"

#like he's a child who found out his dad has cancer #man the og ducklings... i miss them so much they deserved more than 3 seasons #house md #houseposting #robert chase #gregory house #vaaya moodu

[brian-in-finance]

Instagram 12 March 2024

Video 📹 on Instagram 22 March 2024

If you choose to Donate: JustGiving

Remember… World Child Cancer helps children with cancer access treatment and care.

#Tait rhymes with hat #Good times #Tartan Day #6 April 2024 #Charity #Fundraiser #World Child Cancer #WCCTartanDay #TartanDay2024 #JustGiving #Instagram #Instagram Reels #My screenrecording #Godspeed to the Princess of Wales