#strategy::sterilization
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Insurance: Details about Marketplace plans that were available to me
Based on notes I took while deciding on my new insurance plan, here are some limited details about Marketplace plans that were available to me in the state of Michigan. You may or may not have the same plans available.
Blue Cross Blue Shield PPO
-- Purchase decision: ✅
-- Certificate of Coverage published: ✅
-- -- No stated "one per lifetime" limitation on sterilization: ✅
-- -- Coverage for treatment of complications related to non-covered services: Doesn't exclude coverage: ✅
-- No referral to see specialist: ✅
-- Key providers and facilities in-network: ✅
-- Available plans: Secure, Extra, HSA
-- Reject reason: None
Blue Care Network HMO
-- Purchase decision: ❌
-- Certificate of Coverage published: ✅
-- -- No stated "one per lifetime" limitation on sterilization: ✅
-- -- Coverage for treatment of complications related to non-covered services: Doesn't exclude coverage: ✅
-- No referral to see specialist: ❌
-- Key providers and facilities in-network: ✅
-- Available plans: Select, Preferred, Local, Metro Detroit; some of these weren't available in my region
-- Reject reason: Need referral to see specialist
UnitedHealthcare HMO
-- Purchase decision: ❌
-- Certificate of Coverage published: ✅
-- -- No stated "one per lifetime" limitation on sterilization: ✅
-- -- Coverage for treatment of complications related to non-covered services: Explicitly includes coverage: ✅✅
-- No referral to see specialist: ❌
-- Key providers and facilities in-network: ❌
-- Reject reason: Need referral to see specialist; Key providers and facilities out-of-network, with smaller network overall
Molina Marketplace HMO
-- Purchase decision: ❌
-- Certificate of Coverage published: ✅
-- -- No stated "one per lifetime" limitation on sterilization: ✅
-- -- Coverage for treatment of complications related to non-covered services: Explicitly includes coverage: ✅✅
-- No referral to see specialist: ✅
-- Key providers and facilities in-network: ❌
-- Reject reason: Key providers and facilities out-of-network
MyPriority Health HMO
-- Purchase decision: ❌
-- Certificate of Coverage published: ❌
-- No referral to see specialist: ✅
-- Key providers and facilities in-network: ✅
-- Reject reason: Certificate of Coverage not published
McLaren HMO
-- Purchase decision: ❌
-- Certificate of Coverage published: ❌
-- No referral to see specialist: ✅
-- Key providers and facilities in-network: ✅
-- Reject reason: Certificate of Coverage not published
#insurance::marketplace#insurance::certificate#insurance::network#insurance::hmo-ppo#insurance::marketplace::bcbs#insurance::marketplace::bcn#insurance::marketplace::uhc#insurance::marketplace::molina#insurance::marketplace::mypriority#insurance::marketplace::mclaren#strategy::sterilization#strategy::self-pay
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I've noticed an attitude that some parents have where their perceived right to own their children outweighs their duty as a parent. It seems like so much emphasis is placed on the parents ability to own raise a child that it completely clouds any other responsibility for that child. I see it all the time around my culture, where parenthood isn't a question of "if," but "when," because it is seen as ubiquitous to being an adult, and I wonder how many people start believing that because they were expected to be a parent even when they did not want parenthood, they should be rewarded for it.
These are just shots of thoughts, but I've found that this idea that parenthood is your right when you own a child can contribute to an environment of abuse, neglect, or mistreatment of the child/ren in one's care.
And, absolutely, the opportunity of even being a parent has been leveraged in cruel ways, and I think that's an important consideration because it is completely heinous. In my country alone, forced sterilization has been a political strategy for eugenics and to complete a political narrative about the worth of people's right to even live. When thinking about everything above, it reminded me of other ways that parenthood both reinforces violence, perpetuates violence, and threatens violence. This problem goes much deeper than I think many are ready for, and I wanted to acknowledge this due to how pervasive this "political strategy" was/is in many places. I don't think I myself am equipped to truly do this specific topic justice, but I felt it pertinent to this conversation, and something I don't always see even passively acknowledged.
#politics#youth liberation#forced sterilization tw#abuse#abuse tw#abuse mention tw#the first two paragraphs i wrote and then remembered exactly how deep this goes and i think multiple things are true at once#the pressure to be a parent has had drastically horroble results but also... parenthood has been forcibly revoked from people...#...in my country specifically the disabled/indigenous/Black communities and i am SURE i'm missing people. this is a small example...#...their right to autonomy and even the /chance/ to care for life was stolen away from them#parenthood becomes a tool and strategy not for parental sake but for violence
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i guess tuesday will determine if i move to pittsburgh or maryland lmao
#don't fuck this up pa#maryland is so much more expensive than pittsburgh#otoh driving blue voters or even moderates out of purple states is probably their strategy#and i will most likely be fine probably plus i got sterilized lmaoo#leaving central pa is happening no matter what tho
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You're certain your professor hates you.
Dr. Ratio was by no means someone who would go easy on you. His unmatchable merit meant almost unreachable standards of discipline and wit, and that extended a rigorous course with a passing percentage of 3%
You and the very few classmates you've had all were aware about what was to come once you signed up for his classes. Continuous, strict teaching, constant supervision, problems so hard it took days to solve. The worst exams were the open book ones – they lasted days.
At some point, your classmates decided to study together as a strategy. All of you would collectively study like maniacs and it did end up with gratifying results.
At least, for everyone else. Except you.
No matter what you did, your grades plummeted more and more from the previous exams. And Dr. Ratio was no shy of calling you out on it, telling you with a looming stature to meet him after class, the strain in his voice already enough for your blood to run cold.
Somehow, however, everytime after class when you sat down with Dr. Ratio, he seemed agitated, but nothing more. Of course, he didn't go easy on you when it came to pointing out every detail of a mistake on your paper, and that was the worst part you had to tolerate. Afterwards.. he was alright. The condescending tone in his voice as he instructed you to read the reference materials wasn't exactly tolerable, but it was better than being called an idiot, a buffoon, a failure in every language he possibly knew.
Although, what would annoy you even more was your study sessions were confined more and more to his office hours. After a few more failing grades, he would extend the amount of time you'd have to sit across him in the suffocatingly silent, sterile room with only an expanse of books that you occasionally interacted with, and a few necessities.
Every time your hand stopped scribbling, or your eyes stopped scanning the text, he would tap the table with a finger, and ask, "done already?" And you'd immediately continue, replying with a meek, "no". Sometimes if you took a while longer to answer out of hesitance, his sharp gaze would snap to you, looking up from one of his thick books, his reading glasses perched lower so that his eyes peeked out from above the lens. That would be enough to snap you from your trance, and get back to writing frantically.
But the arrangement was fine. Until he started getting uncomfortably closer.
Sometimes, he decides watching your eyebrows furrow in frustration is much more entertaining of a pastime during his break to rest his eyes. His office chair creaks a bit as he leans forward, his elbows perched on the desk, resting his chin on intertwined fingers. This was arguably more intimidating to you – his gaze was unimaginably heavy. And you're sure he's aware of it too – his eyes watch the obvious trembling of the pen in your hands, and the tensing of your jaw, as the realisation he's observing you thoroughly flashes in your eyes.
If you weren't so exhausted after taking your leave,you would have at least had the energy to think he was.. enjoying your discomfort.
And things only got worse from there. Sometimes he decides getting up from his chair and looming intimidatingly from behind you is better. At times, he leans down, too close for comfort, his breathing hitting the shell of your ears as you feel his eyes scan your work, and you. Sometimes, a waft of his scent hits your nose. You're sure he can smell yours, too.
In this position, it only gets worse. His arm sometimes rests across your back and his hand hangs firmly on your shoulder, his other hand pointing out a mistake you've made, and moves your writing hand to the exact spot. His condescending voice practically reverberates through you, his warm breath mixing with the cool air around your ear, making you flinch if you're caught off guard. You can only hope his observant gaze didn't see it.
Unfortunately, as helpful as the after-class lessons are, it seems it's not successful enough to get you to pass his course.
At some point, you're in his office almost late in the evening, the entire vicinity is devoid of people, echoes of usually quiet machinery are heard in the hallway. You sit across from him, head hanging from shame, and dread. He sighs deeply, leaning back in his chair, folding his legs.
He'll have to try.. other methods.
#moonink#hsr#honkai star rail#hsr x reader#honkai star rail x reader#yandere hsr x reader#hsr x you#hsr x gender neutral reader#hsr x y/n#hsr dr ratio#hsr veritas ratio#hsr veritas#honkai star rail x gender neutral reader#honkai star rail x you#yandere honkai star rail x reader#yandere honkai star rail#yandere hsr x you#yandere hsr#yandere dr ratio#dr ratio x reader#dr ratio hsr#dr ratio#dr ratio x y/n#dr ratio x gender neutral reader#dr ratio x you#veritas ratio hsr#veritas ratio x you#veritas ratio x reader#veritas ratio#yandere veritas ratio
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pierced
for @steddiemicrofic march prompt ‘pin’
388 words | rated t | cw: not the safest piercing strategy | tags: pre-relationship, getting together
🧷🧷🧷🧷🧷🧷🧷🧷🧷🧷🧷🧷
“Eds?”
“Hm?”
“You wanna go to bed? Guest room is made up,” Steve offered.
Eddie’s head turned towards him and something shiny caught his eye.
“Woah. What’s that?” Steve asked before Eddie could answer him. “Did you get a new earring?”
“Huh?” Eddie’s eyes opened slowly. “Oh. I lost my earring in the pool earlier and wanted to make sure I had something in there.”
Steve scooted in closer until he was almost on top of Eddie. “You used a safety pin? Is that even safe?”
“It’s not not safe,” Eddie squirmed nervously. “I made sure to sterilize it first.”
“Does it hurt?” Steve felt stupid for asking. Of course it didn’t hurt. He’d already had it pierced for two weeks.
“Nah,” Eddie answered anyways. Steve kinda loved that he never made him feel dumb for asking stupid questions. Steve kinda loved him.
“Could I have one?” Steve asked, eyes darting between the safety pin in his ear and his widening eyes.
“You want a safety pin in your ear?”
“Yeah. Do you need me to get one?”
Eddie searched his face as his fingers reached up to play with the safety pin in his ear. “No, I have another one in my vest I can clean. Just to be clear, you want me to pierce your ear?”
Steve nodded.
“Are you high? Drunk? Suffering from a head injury? Emotionally compromised?”
Steve giggled. “No. I just think it looks cool.”
“It looks cool.”
“Uh-huh.”
Eddie stared back at him for a moment before finding a safety pin on his vest that he could live without. He got up and walked down the hall, probably to use the alcohol in the first aid kit.
When he came back, he immediately straddled Steve’s lap and tilted his head to the side.
Steve gulped.
“You’re really sure?”
“Positive.”
Eddie lined up the needle and told Steve to take a breath.
The safety pin was in his ear and Eddie was on his lap.
He had Eddie in his lap.
“Thanks, Eds.”
“Anytime.”
Maybe now wasn’t the time to make his move, but the way he stared up at Eddie had to have given him away.
Eddie ran his finger along the edge of his ear before leaning in to press a kiss to the top of his ear.
“Looks good, Stevie.”
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#steddiemicrofic#steddiemicroficmarch#getting together
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Yandere Mina?
COLD SKIN
Yandere Mina X Male Reader
The warmth of her touch on his cheek sent a jolt through Y/n. It was a searing contrast to the coldness that usually emanated from her, a coldness that mirrored the sterile perfection of her office. Mina, the CEO of Diamond Star Entertainment, a woman as beautiful as a sculpted marble statue and just as unforgiving, was a terrifying enigma.
Today, however, the enigma seemed to crack. Her eyes, usually sharp and calculating as a hawk's, were red-rimmed and puffy. There was a crumpled tissue on her pristine desk, a silent testament to tears shed. Y/n knew better than to ask. Curiosity was a luxury not afforded to those under Mina's ruthless reign. He remembered the new intern, the one with bright eyes and a hopeful smile, reduced to a sobbing mess in front of the entire company for daring to challenge a marketing strategy.
But today, when Mina finally looked up at him, there was a vulnerability in her gaze that sent a tremor of unease through him. "Y/n," she croaked, her voice devoid of its usual icy authority. "Close the door."
Confused, Y/n obeyed. As the door clicked shut, a dam of emotions seemed to break within Mina. The carefully cultivated image of the iron-fisted CEO crumbled. Tears welled up in her eyes again, spilling over like a cascade. For the first time in years, Mina allowed herself to be vulnerable, a pathetic mess in front of a man who had only ever been on the receiving end of her disdain.
Y/n surprised her then. He pulled her into a hesitant embrace, the familiar scent of his cologne strangely comforting. He didn't speak, didn't judge. He simply placed a hand on hers, the warmth a stark contrast to her icy touch. The tears streamed down her face, hot and furious. This wasn't anger, though; it was a despair so raw it scraped against his soul.
In that moment, a seed took root in Mina's mind, a twisted, possessive vine that would soon choke out all other emotions. The man who had seen her vulnerability, who had offered a moment of solace, couldn't be allowed to leave her sight. He was hers, her one solace in a world that had betrayed her.
Days turned into weeks, the memory of that vulnerability lingering in the air between them. Mina remained outwardly composed, the CEO mask back in place. But around Y/n, a subtle shift occurred. Her touches lingered a beat longer, her eyes held a warmth that sent a shiver down his spine, a warmth that felt dangerously like a warning.
Then, Y/n brought lunch for her. It was a simple gesture, a ham and cheese sandwich from the nearby bakery. Yet, to Mina, it was a declaration. A sign that she was more than just an employee.
As she took a bite, the sweet and savory flavors somehow lost their appeal. The only thing she could taste was the possessiveness blooming in her chest, a dark vine constricting around her heart. She watched Y/n across the desk, his brow furrowed slightly, a crease she found oddly endearing.
Suddenly, a new girl in the office, bubbly and flirtatious, sidled up to him, batting her eyelashes. A cold fury flooded Mina. The sandwich turned to sand in her mouth. She wanted to scream, to rip the girl's perfectly painted smile off her face.
With a voice dripping with ice, Mina called the girl into her office. The humiliation that followed was swift and brutal. The girl fled the building in tears, her dreams of stardom shattered by a woman who could destroy careers with a single word.
Y/n, pale and shaken, stormed into Mina's office. "What did you do?" he demanded, his voice trembling with anger.
Mina met his gaze, her eyes devoid of remorse. "She was bothering you," she said simply.
"That's not your call to make!" he yelled, his voice cracking. Fear, a chilling new sensation, warred with the strange protectiveness blooming in his chest. It was a bizarre combination, this fear and possessiveness, a cocktail that left him both terrified and strangely drawn.
Mina stood up, her cold skin brushing against his as she leaned in. Her lips, usually painted a vibrant red, were pale and bloodless. "But you're mine, aren't you, Y/n?" she whispered, her voice husky with possessiveness.
Y/n's breath hitched. The fear intensified, but then there was something else, something hot and primal sparked by the way she looked at him.
"No," he breathed, but the word lacked conviction.
Mina smiled, a slow, predatory smile that sent shivers down his spine. "Uhm... Didn't you mean Yes," she countered, her voice a silken caress. "You saved me when I was broken. Now......we'll save each other. Forever."
The words hung heavy in the air, laced with an unspoken threat disguised as a promise. Y/n felt trapped, caught in the web of her twisted affection. Fear flickered in his eyes, but Mina mistook it for something more, her pale lips curving into a triumphant smile.
In the following weeks, the lines between affection and obsession blurred. Mina showered him with lavish gifts – a new car, a luxurious apartment in a building she owned. He protested, but his resistance was met with icy glares and veiled threats.
One evening, he found her waiting in his new apartment, a seductive smile playing on her lips. Her usual immaculate attire was replaced by a flimsy silk robe, barely concealing the white expanse of her skin. The air crackled with unspoken desire, an intoxicating mixture of fear and forbidden longing.
Mina moved towards him, her perfume heavy in the air. "You'll get used to it," she whispered, her voice husky. "This… Us." She traced a finger down his chest, sending shivers cascading down his spine.
He wanted to run, but his feet seemed rooted to the spot. The fear that had been simmering within him now boiled over. "Mina, this isn't right. You're my boss!"
She tilted her head, her smile turning icy. "And you're mine," she purred, her voice a chilling counterpoint to the warmth of her touch. She leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. "Don't you ever forget that."
Desire warred with fear within him. The woman he once feared was now a terrifying enigma, a beautiful viper offering a poisoned kiss. As she leaned in further, he tasted the desperation in her embrace, the cold skin a stark contrast to the heat burning in her eyes.
Suddenly, a memory surfaced – the tear-stained face behind the CEO mask, the raw vulnerability. It sparked a flicker of something akin to pity within him, a dangerous emotion that fueled his decision.
He gently pushed her away, his voice firm. "Mina, you need help. Real help."
The fury in her eyes was terrifying, a storm brewing beneath the surface. But before she could unleash it, his phone buzzed – a work emergency. Relief washed over him, a lifeline thrown in the midst of a brewing storm.
"Later," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Get some rest."
He escaped back into the night, leaving Mina alone in his apartment, the silence broken only by her ragged breaths. As he drove away, a cold dread gripped his heart. He knew he couldn't keep playing this dangerous game. He had to find a way out, or risk becoming another victim of her twisted affection.
The following days were a tense dance. Mina was outwardly calm, the CEO mask back in place. Yet, Y/n felt her watchful gaze constantly on him, a suffocating presence that made his skin crawl. He started making arrangements in secret, searching for a way to escape her clutches.
One evening, as he was leaving the office, a package arrived for him. Inside, nestled in velvet, lay a silver locket. It contained a picture of him, taken without his knowledge, his face plastered with a terrifying smile. A single word was engraved on the locket: ‘Forever.’
Mina was watching him from her office window, a chilling smile playing on her lips. Her obsession with him had morphed into a terrifying possessiveness, a love story written in a script far darker than any K-Pop fantasy. Y/n, trapped in the web she had spun, knew one thing for sure – the battle for his freedom had only just begun.
Y/n stared at the diamond-encrusted wedding band, a heavy weight on his ring finger. The ceremony had been a spectacle, a lavish display of Mina's power and his supposed devotion. Every detail screamed 'ownership,' from the invasive paparazzi drones to the guest list consisting solely of his distant relatives, flown in and out as quickly as puppets on a string.
The honeymoon wasn't a trip to the Maldives, but a permanent relocation to a secluded mansion on a private island. Escape felt like a fever dream – every attempt choked by Mina's vast network of eyes and ears. His phone calls were monitored, his internet access restricted. Even his old apartment stood empty, stripped of all his belongings except the chilling locket that had become a constant reminder of his captivity.
The first night in their opulent bedroom, Mina stood before him, the moonlight reflecting off her silk nightie. The playful coyness was gone, replaced by a steely determination.
"Now," she purred, her voice devoid of warmth, "we begin our Future."
Resistance was futile. Mina had taken away everything that mattered – his career, his freedom, and now, his very agency. Over time, a sense of numb compliance settled over him. He attended business meetings as her trophy husband, his voice reduced to a mere echo beside hers. He learned to navigate the gilded cage, a hollow shell of the man he once was.
Years blurred into a monotonous routine. Mina meticulously planned their lives, their schedules revolving around fertility treatments and doctor appointments. The birth of their first child was another grandiose event, a carefully choreographed media spectacle. More followed, children with large, curious eyes that mirrored Mina's chilling possessiveness.
One evening, as he tucked their youngest daughter into bed, he saw a flash of defiance in her eyes. A flicker of the same spirit that had once resided within him.
"Don't worry," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "I'll try."
It was a promise, a vow to break the cycle before it consumed his children as it had him. He knew his chances were slim, but in that moment, amidst the gilded bars of his cage, a tiny spark of hope flickered to life.
#twice mina#mina#twice#yandere x reader#yandere roleplay#yandere blog#kpop#kpop x reader#kpop x y/n#x male reader#sexy content#beautiful#apreciation post#update#yandere#kpop smut
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A community-led strategy to save Brazil’s dry forests from desertification
In northern Bahia state, 35 communities have come together to conserve and recover close to 100,000 acres of Caatinga dry forest in northeastern Brazil.
With the Recaatingamento project, families learn to preserve native vegetation, control the overpopulation of goat, and invest in sustainable sources of income, such as gathering wild fruits.
Affected by recurrent droughts, the Caatinga is one of the region’s most susceptible to climate change; it’s also Brazil’s third-most deforested biome, which contributes to accelerating desertification — 13% of the soil there is already sterile.
Continue reading.
#brazil#brazilian politics#politics#environmentalism#caatinga#mod nise da silveira#image description in alt
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—LOVING YOU IS ENOUGH
frat!jake seresin x f!reader
dagger squad college!au
summary: a week after the fight that tore you apart, jake finds out about the accident. (part 2 of a losing game)
wc: 9.3k
warning(s): 18+, fem!reader, no y/n (reader goes by nickname ace), recommended to read a losing game first, angst galore, swearing, mentions of alcohol, drunk driving (don't do it), bad parental relationships, academic pressure, hospitals, description of injuries
part of the loving you universe || find it on ao3 here
𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊, 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃!
Jake Seresin used to think he had no regrets in his life. Every time he was close to feeling as if that were so, the universe found a way to turn it around and prove to him that he made the right choice. Choosing to go to USC for instance, instead of staying in his home state of Texas, he thought was the biggest mistake he had made in his life. Then USC led him to Delta Chi where he made lifelong friends, and ultimately he met you. So no, Jake Seresin had no regrets in life. Yet as he sat under the fluorescent white lights of the sterile hospital waiting room, Jake was able to think of one.
All the days passed by in a blur, with Jake finding himself in a robotic routine that helped him get through the day:
Wake up
Go to class
Eat
Do not think about Ace
Nap
Eat
Do not think about Ace
(attempt to) Sleep
It wasn’t the healthiest of routines, but it was enough to keep him surviving. At least until he began receiving your texts. Your apologies and declarations of love made him weak, making it much harder for him to stand his ground and give himself the space that he told himself he needed. With each passing day, he found it harder to convince himself that space is what he actually wanted. So he silenced your notifications. The bright red badge continued to grow in number and it took all of his power to not give in and click your contact.
By the fifth day, Jake thought he was actually doing pretty well. He was even studying for his finals and going to every single one of his study groups that you had suggested he try. Even as one thing or another always led back to a reminder of you, his self control was much more restrained and he felt just a little bit lighter.
Jake missed you like hell, that was for sure. But maybe this fight was a sign for him to work on himself. To be better not just for you, but for himself as well.
So he did what he thought was best by pulling a page from your book and choosing to throw himself into his work. He shut everyone out, refusing to go to any outings with Javy and the gang. He didn’t answer his phone and barely left his room other than to go to classes or use the bathroom. Jake ignored the fact that in doing so, he was neglecting his physical and mental health. In turn, making this coping strategy of his more harmful than good. While he thought his obsession with his isolation and studying was “making himself better,” he didn’t realize that the only thing he was really doing was actively avoiding the problem at hand.
But as day seven rolled around, Jake’s fake it till you make it attitude came crashing down. Upon returning back to his and Javy’s shared room in the Frat House after his final exam, Jake fell onto his bed and finally let himself feel.
Jake Seresin has never felt so alone. After days of avoiding, he gave himself permission to think about you–to miss you. Remembering the last time he saw you and the last moment you shared, he could feel the tears that began to gather on his lash line. Too tired to hold it in, he let his emotions go. He let the sobs and cries for help he has been burying in his chest break free. He was tired, so damn tired, of pretending like everything was okay. Like he was okay.
He wanted someone to notice that something was off with him, that something happened to make him feel absolutely miserable in his own skin. However, everyone was too caught up in their own whirlwinds of final exams, studying, and relationships to notice that Jake was struggling to stay afloat without his life preserver–without you.
His heart ached and longed for you. Your voice, your touch, your love. If he could take it all back he would. He would’ve come back to you without a second thought. Jake would have gathered you in his arms and sat with you all night long until the two of you could work it out. Because he wasn’t Hangman anymore. He wouldn’t leave you out to dry. Yet somehow he managed to do exactly that.
With the only thing on his mind being you, he finally mustered up the courage to read all of the texts you had sent him days prior. The first few made his heart ache, reading your heartfelt apologies and declarations of love was enough to make him start crying all over again. Teary eyed smiles graced his features at your small anecdotes and pictures of things that reminded you of him.
He could hear your voice and see your mannerisms in his head at each text he reads through.
Jake’s euphoria is interrupted by the fifth call he has received from Natasha. He rolls his eyes before immediately declining her call. Nat probably finally talked to you about what happened and he figured she was calling to rip him a new one. He definitely wasn’t in the mood for that right now.
His smile grows as he scrolls through his phone, especially at the photo of a golden retriever you saw on campus that “looked like him.” A playful scoff leaves him at that as he imagines the way you would’ve jumped up and down on the tips of your toes, clutching onto his arm, as you justified how he was a golden retriever in human form. This was the closest he felt to you in days and he wished for it to never end.
Jake continued on, savoring every good night and “I love you” text, every apology, and every good luck you wished him on his exams. Though one series of texts was enough to have the fullness in Jake’s heart flushed empty. He reads them over and over again, praying that he read them wrong.
I failed my exams, Jake. I don’t know what to do.
His heart skips a beat.
I can’t go home this summer. I won’t. I can’t face my parents, they’ll hate me forever.
But the worst of them all, the one he begs was a prank being played on him by the universe read: I’m taking your silence as a sign that I’ve fucked us up beyond repair. I love you, Jake Seresin, even if you no longer love me.
He’s going to be sick. Sure he was mad, but he never wanted you to ever think that he didn’t love you anymore. That was just a statement that could never be true. Jake was done wallowing. He was done making you both suffer because he wasn’t man enough to confront you. Swallowing his fears and his pride, he begins formulating a text to ask you to meet him at The Hard Deck–somewhere familiar, though not too intimate just yet.
He’s about to press send when a phone call from Javy interrupts his screen. Jake instantly presses decline, however, he barely has another second before Javy’s name pops up again.
With an agitated sigh, Jake finally answers the phone, swearing up and down that whatever he was calling for better be something good. “The hell you want, Javy?”
“Jake–” he starts.
“Look, I’ve been getting calls from Nat all day and I’m assuming that’s why you’re calling me right now,” Jake vents. “But I really, really don’t have time for a lecture from either of you right now, man.”
“Jake.” Javy’s voice shifts into something more somber, more serious. “Ace’s been in an accident.”
It’s as if his feet have processed the information long before his brain did. Jake blacks out, barely recognizing the actions in which he’s pulling on his shoes and rushing out of his room and into the common living area.
The air is knocked out of his lungs, forcing him to grasp for leverage on the edge of the table. Jake can hear Bradley asking what’s wrong but all he can focus on is Javy’s breathing, the sound of people rushing around in the background. The phone slips from his hand and he feels like his entire rib cage is caving in on itself, crushing his heart. Black spots swim on his vision and there’s a hand on his chest telling him to breathe.
“Come on, Seresin,” Bradley’s voice comes through. “Breathe.”
A heavy exhale escapes him as he desperately tries to catch his breath. He’s muttering an incoherent string of words, stumbling his way through the room and trying to get to the front door.
Bradley is right on his tail, yanking on his own pair of shoes and grabbing the phone that Jake haphazardly dropped on the floor in the middle of his attack. “You gotta tell me what’s going on, man, you’re scaring me.”
Jake abruptly stops at the front door, turning to look at Bradley over his shoulder with something worse than heartbreak in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything more other than, “Ace. It’s Ace.”
That’s all Bradley needs to hear before he’s grabbing the car keys from Jake’s hands and dialing Javy’s number back into Jake’s phone.
Jake could hardly remember when he got to the hospital, let alone how he was able to navigate himself to get to the ER without help when the only thing on his mind was you. He couldn’t even recall what Javy had said about the extent of your injuries, just that you were still unconscious from the car accident.
Upon reaching the ER Jake saw Nat sitting in the waiting room with her head in her hands while Javy sat beside her and gently rubbed a comforting hand up and down her back.
Bradley and Jake’s heavy footsteps alert the couple. Nat’s head shoots up, her red rimmed and teary eyes locking on Jake’s. She’s storming over in seconds, pushing at his chest angrily.
“Why the hell didn’t you pick up your phone?”
“Nat–” he starts, only to be silenced with another harsh shove. He takes the brunt of the hit, knowing he deserved every single one and worse. “I’m sorry.” Jake winces at how pathetic he sounds.
Natasha shakes her head with disappointment clouding her features. “Sorry isn’t gonna fix this.”
Javy joins the group, nodding at Bradley as he gestures for him to sit down. He places a hand on Jake’s shoulder asking him to do the same. He only brushes Javy’s hand off, taking a step closer to Nat.
“Is she…is she okay?” He braces himself for the worst. Jake’s heart beats so fast against his ribcage that he swears he could feel the muscle begin to ache.
Natasha inhales shakily before collapsing into the nearest seat. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?” The fear in his veins begins to mix with annoyance and fury. The rational side of him knew he shouldn’t be mad at Nat, but the only thing occupying his thoughts was the idea of you not being okay. Having to hear that you were in the hospital was already bad enough. He doesn’t think he could take anything more.
“I mean, I don’t know!” Nat’s voice rises with that same frustration and fear. “All the lady on the phone said was that she was in a car accident with four other people from our school. From what I understand, the others made it out okay, but the car that t-boned them…” Her voice wavers, recalling the words she heard earlier that evening and imagining the worst. “The other car hit Ace’s side head on. She took most of the impact. The other four made it out okay with barely any scratches.”
Jake’s hands are shaking as he braces them on his knees, desperate to catch his breath. He didn’t realize his knees had hit the floor until he felt the sting from the solid ground. But he didn’t have it in him to care about anything other than you right now. Jake desperately tries to piece everything together from your texts from the night before but nothing was making sense. Everything he was trying to understand came out between shallow breaths. “Where did she go? Why was she out so late? Who was she with? Why weren’t any of you with her?”
“Jake,” Bradley interferes, squeezing his shoulder as a gentle reminder to breathe.
Jake catches the way Javy clenches his jaw from the corner of his eye which has him demanding answers. “Javy.” There was something his friends weren’t telling him, making the searing hot anger in his blood begin to boil.
Nat saves her boyfriend by giving up the information for him. “Before you get upset, you need to understand that she didn’t tell any of us where she was going. None of us had really seen her lately and just assumed she was stressed out from finals. We didn’t think things were this bad.”
“What aren’t you guys telling me?”
“Jake,” Javy starts cautiously. He kneels down beside his friend, speaking nice and slow, almost like he was conversing with a child. “If we tell you, you have to promise to stay calm.”
He scoffs in disbelief, rolling his eyes at his best friend. “How do you think I’ll be able to stay calm? I just found out my girlfriend has been in an accident and no one wants to tell me what the hell is going on!”
“Javy, just tell him. He deserves to know,” Bradley sighs.
“Damn right, I deserve to know. I’m her boyfriend!” Jake’s seething as he gets up and starts pacing back and forth. People are beginning to stare but he doesn’t give a damn.
It’s Nat’s turn to grow agitated. “Really? Because last I heard the two of you were on a break.”
“Wait, what?” Javy looks at his best friend in bewilderment.
Nat shoots him a look that says, I’ll explain it all later.
“Doesn’t matter if we were on a break or not. She’s still my girl and I need to know what happened.”
The conviction in his tone and the strength on his face are enough to make Javy and Nat cave. Hiding this from him would only make things worse than they already were.
Nat doesn’t dare to meet Jake’s eye as she says, “She was with some Alpha Sigs and their girlfriends. Everyone in the car was intoxicated. Even the guy at the wheel. They were coming from the Alpha Sig house. I don’t know what the hell they were doing in a car like that but I know the Sigs are in interrogation with the police right now.”
Bradley clenches his fist. “Those bastards.”
“Ace was the only one whose condition was critical.” The word critical falls short on her tongue, being whispered into the tense atmosphere.
Jake’s silence is unnerving. They were expecting an outburst of some sort. Some screaming, maybe even some physical aggression yet not of it came. The sound that fell from Jake’s lips was worse than anything they could’ve imagined.
It was as if everyone in the room heard his heartbreak as he was unable to control the tears that fell from his eyes. The feeling of overwhelming guilt rushed over him at the realization that he should have been there. That this was all his fault. You would have never humored the idea of an Alpha Sig party in the first place if the two of you had just talked everything out. But you weren’t thinking straight, and neither was he, leading the both of you towards the path of least resistance. Instead, Jake had to be stubborn and sensitive. He couldn’t just man up and admit that you were more important than his ego and pride.
Nothing matters to him anymore upon his epiphany other than needing to see you. You were the only one that could help him.
“I need to see her,” he says through nasally breaths.
During Jake’s spiral, Nat had let tears of her own fall. “They’re not letting any of us see her right now. Just family.” The last part tastes like acid on her tongue.
“We’re her family. They need to let me see her,” he begs. Jake remembers you telling him that he and your friends were truly the only family you have ever known.
“Biological, Jake. We can’t. Not until her parents get here.” She doesn’t even try to hide the scowl on her face.
“Well, where the hell are they?” Jake questions.
“Bora Bora? Or was it Barbados? I have no fucking clue. The nurse said it sounded like they were more upset about their vacation being cut short than their own daughter being in the hospital.”
Jake hates that he wasn’t too surprised to hear that. How ironic that the real people you considered family were here and yet they wouldn’t even let them see you.
Jake swallows, trying his best to ignore the stickiness of his throat. “Then I guess I’m staying here until then.”
Javy, Natasha, and Bradley share a look of uncertainty at his words. Certainly, it wasn’t healthy for him to be there all day and all night waiting for your parents to get there. It was Jake’s determined look and sureness that also let them know that there was no talking him out of this. The three make a silent, unspoken pact to watch over the boy until then.
Jake wasn’t giving up. Not now, not ever. Leaving you was the biggest mistake he has ever made. He was never going to let that happen again.
Seventy-two hours later and Jake was still left in the dark about your condition. He desperately wanted to sneak into your room and see you. He was close to lying to the nurses and saying he was your cousin if that was what he needed to do. But the rest of his friends convinced him to be patient. Though it hurt, the pain lessened with them around.
Like clockwork, the group would come to the hospital to wait for any news and to take care of Jake. The mornings would consist of Javy and Natasha bringing Jake a new change of clothes and breakfast. His afternoons were spent with Bradley dragging him back home to take a quick shower while Bob stayed at the hospital until they returned. The first day was like pulling teeth with Jake. The scene would have been quite amusing, if not for the seriousness of their situation. Bradley looked like he was dragging a child through the hospital with how stubborn Jake was being. A quick phone call to Javy had him fixing his attitude.
“You don’t want the first impression Ace gets of you after so long to be that you stink, do you?” he had said.
So he reluctantly obliged, returning back to the hospital freshly bathed under 45 minutes flat.
Jake’s evenings were spent with Mickey and Reuben force feeding him dinner and trying to distract him with mediocre board games.
The next day, the cycle would repeat. Then again on the next. Their distractions were welcomed and he appreciated how they have been there for the both of you through everything. When night fell and the waiting room emptied, Jake stayed right where he was.
He would bury himself into the neck of his sweatshirt and try to get as much sleep as he could. Sleep didn’t come easy to Jake. All of the “what if’s” and the fear of missing the moment you’d wake clouded his thoughts to the point where sleep just seemed absolutely impossible.
The only ones left in the waiting room were the few straggling family members waiting for their loved ones and the nurses who passed by every now and then. The dim lighting and eerie silence, bar the sound of heart monitors and the occasional code call, were more than enough to have the voices in Jake’s head amplify in volume.
It was his own voice, berating him for not checking up on him sooner. For being hard headed and too full of pride to approach you first. It was Javy’s, telling him that you got into an accident. It was your last I love you. No, not last. He won’t entertain that idea.
No matter how much he willed himself not to, he couldn’t help but think to the last time the both of you spoke. Jake hated himself for not saying those three words back to you. He never thought that one choice would lead to the possibility of never hearing your voice again, touching your soft skin, or seeing your bright eyes full of life. Of never loving you again. What hurt him the most though, was the possibility that your last thought of him may be that he didn’t love you anymore. That was far from the truth.
He loved you more than he thought he was capable of loving someone. Jake has had his fair share of girlfriends and flings, but not one of them made him feel the way you did with something as simple as a look in his direction. That’s all it took with you. One look and Jake knew you were it for him. Nothing else mattered.
Jake hated himself for making you doubt that. Jake hated himself for leaving that night and most of all he hated himself for not saying it back. Now, all he wanted to do was shower you in love and reassure you that despite the sting of your words, he never stopped loving you. He can’t imagine what he would’ve done if he was in your shoes. Right now, he wished he was. If he could be in your place and take your pain, he would.
But he can’t and if something worse were to happen to you, Jake would be the one to live with that pain and burden. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if it came to that.
It’s funny to think that three years ago, Jake would have rolled his eyes and scoffed at the image of himself being hopelessly in love. Now you were his everything–the thing he couldn’t imagine his life without.
It was a miracle that he was able to fall asleep that night with no nightmares. The exhaustion must have finally caught up to him because his sleep was so deep that he woke up to Javy frantically shaking his shoulders to get him to wake.
His eyes snapped open as he came to. His senses readjusted to the environment around him before remembering where he was and why he was there.
Javy sounded like he was underwater as Jake shook himself awake. His vision finally clears and he sees the rest of his friends already there in the room. A quick glance outside was enough to tell him he slept through breakfast and probably lunchtime too.
Jake, still feeling groggy, was completely disregarding everything his best friend was saying. He assumed he was being given the same spiel he’s heard for the past three days about needing to eat and take care of himself.
Then Javy says something that has Jake snapping wide awake.
He barely gives him another chance to repeat himself before Jake is scrambling to his feet with bleary eyes and disheveled hair. He had no other cares in the world right now other than to confirm that what Javy had said is true.
The sweet nurse who Jake had familiarized himself with during his stay gently caught him by the wrist and tugged him towards the hall.
“Her parents got here an hour ago, but since she woke she’s only been asking for you,” Nurse Donna informed him.
A small flutter works its way around Jake’s rib cage and down to his stomach upon hearing her words. He can no longer contain the nerves that flood through his system as he continues to clumsily follow Donna, tripping over his own feet in the process.
When Donna finally lets go of his wrist, he stops outside the door marked with your last name for just a moment. Hesitation and fear cloud his mind. Maybe Donna was mistaken. What if you weren’t actually asking for him? What if she had misheard? What if–
“It’s okay, honey. Go see your girl.” Donna urges him with an encouraging smile.
His girl. God, he missed hearing that. He gives her a small nod of gratitude and exhales softly. Jake’s shaky hand reaches for the silver knob. Giving it a forceful push, he makes his way through the door frame. His feet skid to stop at the threshold and his breath hitches in his throat as he’s met with the sight of those beautiful eyes he’s been praying to see for days on end.
Two Years Ago
Jake didn’t understand why you were so cold towards him. You were even able to warm up to his frat brothers Javy and Reuben. He was dying for it to be his turn. It got to the point where Jake would just breathe while standing beside you and you’d let out a loud groan and move beside Bradley.
Jake hated to admit that he was jealous of Bradley’s ability to get along with you so easily. After your little moment in the library, he thought things between the two of you would be easier, lighter. Instead, it became the absolute opposite and Jake was close to doing something stupid just so you would pay attention to him again. He doesn’t know why, but ever since that day in the library, he found himself desperate for your attention. He was filled with the satisfaction he used to get when flirting with sorority girls. He hasn’t been able to feel that since you.
He doesn’t know what he did to make you dislike him so much. If only he knew, then maybe he could do something to rectify your predetermined notions of him.
Even now as he attempted to butter up an Alpha Phi girl, his green eyes were constantly drawn back to your figure on the other side of the aisle. The high pitched voice of the girl in front of him turned into white noise as Jake zeroed in on you. Suddenly, getting this girl to come to the party tonight was the last thing on his mind.
You hadn’t noticed him yet. If you had, you probably would’ve made a B-line toward the exit already. You were standing on your tiptoes with your tongue slightly poking out from the corner of your mouth. Brows furrowed in concentration, you desperately tried to grab a book on the top shelf. After a lousy first attempt, you try a second time. This time, you rock back on your heels for momentum before launching yourself upwards. Your second try is just as unsuccessful as your first.
Jake shakes his head with amusement as he watches you try for a third time. Your third attempt was just as successful as the last two, leaving you standing empty handed.
“Hey, Becky? Why don’t we finish this conversation another time, yeah?” He gently pats the girl on the arm, all while keeping his gaze trained on you. Jake barely waits for the girl’s response, missing her disgruntled correction of, My name’s Brittany! that falls from her lips.
You’re staring heatedly at the book on the top shelf. He strides over to you, patiently waiting for you to notice him. He stands beside you, also looking up intently at the book, with his arms crossed over his chest. His lips quirk up at the corners as he notes the way your body tenses upon sensing his presence.
All you do is roll back your shoulders as if preparing for one last jump. Jake stops you before you can even make your attempt.
“Sit tight, Ace, your savior’s here.” His left hand hovers over the small of your back while he extends his right arm to reach the book you were looking for. An over dramatic sigh leaves his lips as he brings his arm down and hands the book out to you. His green eyes twinkle with delight as you cross your arms in annoyance.
You turn to meet his gaze, your own stare burning into his.
Jake’s stomach does the strangest thing upon catching your eye. He suddenly finds himself mesmerized by their beautiful color. The intensity of your stare makes him feel like you can see right through him, all the way into the depths of the most hidden parts of his soul. He could get lost in them if you let him.
Breaking eye contact at the intensity of his gaze, you scoff, snatching the book from his hands. Swiftly turning on your heels, you make your way toward the end of the aisle. You stop right at the end and pause before turning over your shoulder to see Jake still eyeing you in bewilderment. “Careful on your way out, Seresin. Your head’s getting so big I’m afraid it might be a bit of a tight squeeze.”
For once, his brain seems to have shut off and he’s unable to think up a cocky or witty remark. He watches you go with intrigue and admiration. His stomach does another somersault as he recalls the exact shade of your eyes and the sway of your hips.
You are going to be the death of him.
“Jake?”
Just like that, he can finally breathe again. Tears gather in his eyes faster than his feet can bring him to the edge of the bed. Jake’s sweeping your hand that’s not hooked up to the IV in his and he lets out a breath of relief at the feeling of your skin on his. A feeling that he was afraid he’d never get to have again.
“Jake,” you sigh, the moment his hand is in yours. You breathe his name like it was your first full breath of fresh air. It falls from your lips like a prayer. Soft, sweet, and full of conviction.
He gives himself a moment to scan your body. Jake’s heart fractures even more than he thought was possible given everything he’s been through this past week. Upon seeing the state you were in, anguish crashes down onto his body. His shoulders feel heavy and his knees are weak at the sight of your pretty face all battered and bruised from various hits you took. There’s a nasty gash on your forehead that was barely holding itself together with the bandage that was placed there. Your right arm was in a cast and your left knee was propped up and wrapped up in a bandage of its own. He hopes that this was the worst of your injuries, but he knows that the extent of them goes deeper than what he can see with his naked eye. Your skin was adorned in a variety of scrapes and scratches, all of which Jake desperately wished he could kiss away.
The shallow movements of your chest and the pained whimper that leaves your lips have him carefully running his other hand over the side of your head, softly soothing you. He bends down to gently rest his forehead against yours and the second his skin makes contact with yours, he’s unable to stop the tears that begin to fall. Jake’s eyes squeeze shut and the heaviness that has been pushing on his chest since the moment he walked away from you finally subsides. His grip on your hand tightens ever so slightly as if to tell himself you’re here, you’re alive, you’re okay. The same words leave him in a hushed whisper that he shares between the two of you. Though they were more of a reassurance for himself.
A shaky exhale escapes you at his words and the way you’re gasping for air signifies that you’ve started crying as well. Part of it was from the tight pain in your chest and the other from the utter disbelief that this was real–that Jake was really here.
The first thing you thought of the second you woke was Jake. You were positive that he wasn’t going to be there, but you desperately begged for him anyway. The shock on your parents' faces that clouded your vision quickly turned to disgust as you refused to listen to their words. Your mother had tried to reach out to you, but you thrashed in her touch and frantically shook your head as you cried out for Jake.
You were in near hysterics and your parents were staring at you in shock and horror but you didn’t care. You didn’t care that they were there when all you wanted was Jake.
Your mother begged Nurse Donna to sedate you. The sour look on Donna’s face was missed by your mother as she left the room. She thought that Donna had gone to grab the sedative. However, when she returned without a syringe and with a boy, your mother almost fainted.
You, on the other hand, thought you were dreaming when you saw him walk through that door. You just couldn’t believe that even after everything, Jake was there. Then he touched you and you broke down. His scent invaded you. His touch that you’ve craved like a drug for days on end was finally yours again. The reality that he was there was more than enough to have you breaking down again.
“I’m sorry,” you slur, still slightly drowsy from the medications. “I’m sorry,” you mutter over and over again as he places his forehead on yours.
You feel him pull you closer and shush you gently as tears of his own run down his face. You did this. You made him cry. If your limbs weren’t so heavy and numb you would’ve brushed away all the tears that ran down his perfect face until his eyes were finally dry.
Jake’s elation shatters at your words. You had absolutely nothing to be sorry for right now. If anything, he should be the one on his knees begging for your forgiveness. He opens his mouth to speak before getting cut off by someone in the corner of the room clearing their throat.
Jake’s attention was so focused on you that he hadn’t noticed your parents standing there this entire time. Hot, white fury fuels him at the sight of them looking more bothered than worried for their daughter.
“You didn’t tell us you had a boyfriend,” your mother practically sneers at him.
Jake wills himself to pull it together, for your sake.
“Mom–” you start.
“How does that make you feel, son? Knowing your girlfriend didn’t tell her own parents about you?” This time, it’s your father who speaks up, eyeing Jake up and down. “Insignificant, I would say.”
“Dad! Stop it!”
The stress in your voice is evident and the spike of your heart monitor grabs Jake’s attention.
You barely had enough strength to defend Jake against their venomous words. He looks at you with wide eyes, asking for your permission to speak to them. Had this been under different circumstances, Jake wouldn’t need to think twice about biting his tongue. He probably would have snapped back at them too if he didn’t notice the unnecessary stress this entire situation was putting on your shoulders.
You shake your head at him before glancing toward your parents. “Please. Please leave.” You didn’t want them here right now. You didn’t need anyone but Jake right now.
Offended, your mother scoffs. “You’re choosing a boy over your own parents?”
This time, Jake decides to jump to your defense. “I believe she asked you to leave.” He looks over his shoulder, narrowing his gaze at your parents who stand unbothered across the room.
“Why should we listen to you?” Your mother fights back.
You start feeling lightheaded from the entire situation and you lay your head back, sliding out of Jake’s hold slightly. “Please,” you ask with the little strength you have.
Noticing the warmth of your skin leaving him, Jake gently follows the movement of your head and cradles it while helping you lower your head to the pillow. His full attention is back on you as he scans you for any more distress. Jake was getting angrier by the minute. Couldn’t your parents see how much stress they were causing you? Why wouldn’t they just leave? He was close to yelling at them now but was saved by Donna entering the room.
“Your daughter asked you to leave,” she tells them sternly. “Now I suggest you listen before I call security to have you both dragged out of here.”
Your mother’s jaw drops and your father shakes his head with a scowl. Putting his hands up in surrender, your father is the first to leave.
Your mother, however, lingers for just a moment more. “I can’t believe we left the Bahamas for this.” She always had to have the last word.
Once the room is free of their presence you heavily exhale, looking at Donna with a grateful smile.
She nods with a small smile of her own. “I’ll let you kids have a moment. Oh, and don’t worry, I’ll be right outside in case your parents try to come back.”
“Thanks, Donna,” Jake sighs, his eyes never leaving yours.
She winks at the both of you before softly closing the door on her way out.
“Are you–” the both of you say at the same time.
You avert your gaze with a nervous chuckle and Jake smiles, urging you to go first.
You take a moment to observe the boy in front of you. This Jake was not the one you saw the last time. This Jake was tired and worn out. If the dullness of his green eyes and the dark circles that surrounded them weren’t a telltale sign of his exhaustion, it was the paleness of his skin and his sullen cheeks.
“Are you okay?” You ask timidly. For the first time since you started dating, you find yourself feeling incredibly anxious about him. You were the reason why he looked like this, so empty and void of life. You didn’t even deserve for him to be here right now.
Jake shakes his head with a sad smile playing on his lips. “You’re the one in a hospital gown and you’re asking if I’m okay?”
He presses a sweet kiss to your forehead and you almost cry from the contact.
“That’s my Ace, always worrying about me.” So much fondness shines in his eyes, causing you to finally break.
The tears start flowing again, scaring Jake just a little bit.
“Your Ace?” You sob. Somehow, you knew he had already forgiven you, but you still didn’t think you deserved it. “How can you even stand being here with me after everything I did? I hurt you, Jake. I hurt you and I am so, so sorry.”
“Hey,” he whispers, softly stroking your hair. “It’s okay.”
“No, no it’s not okay. Nothing about this is okay!” You hiccup and hiss at the sting it causes in your rib cage.
“Ace, breathe for me sweetheart, come on.” He gently coaxes you with teary eyes of his own. He needs to hold it together for your sake. He needs to be strong for both of you.
“It’s not okay,” you sniffle.
“Shh…” Jake sees how much of a toll this entire thing has taken on you.
Your eyelids are drooping heavily, but you will to keep them open. You’re afraid that once you close them, you’ll wake up to find that this was all just a dream. That Jake was never really here to begin with and that you were all alone.
Jake pulls the empty chair that was beneath your bed closer to him and takes a seat. He encapsulates your hand between both of his and brings them to his lips. “It’s okay, Ace. Sleep,” he guides.
“No.” You tiredly fight against the exhaustion that is threatening to take over. “No.”
“Sleep,” Jake requests again. “I’ll still be here when you wake up.”
“You promise?” You whimper.
“I promise.” He gives your hand another kiss for safe measure, already seeing that your eyes have already begun to close. With his lips still pressed against your skin, he swears, “I’ll be here, Ace. I promise I’m never leaving you again. I love you. So fucking much.”
Jake doesn’t miss the faint smile that ghosts your lips as sleep finally takes control of your body.
Two Years Ago
He finds you lying on the dewy lawn of the Delta Chi house splayed out like a starfish. “What in the…” he mutters to himself as he makes his way towards you.
Jake stands over you, coming into your vision upside down causing you to giggle.
“Ace?”
“Hangman!” You exclaim with a dopey smile on your lips.
He rolls his eyes at the name and crouches down above you. “What are you doing out here all alone?”
You sigh dreamily. “Stargazing.”
Jake catches the scent of cheap beer and jungle juice on your lips, letting him know you were currently far from sober. That makes him worry just a little bit. Last he heard you didn’t drink. You despised it actually.
“How much have you had to drink?” He asks for safe measures.
Another giggle erupts from your lips as you hold up all ten of your fingers and even your feet, wiggling your toes in your sandals. “This many.”
That’s all Jake needs to confirm that you are long gone. “Where’s the rest of your friends?” He glances around looking for any sign of your roommates. All he sees are drunk couples making out on the front porch and the occasional flash of disco lights that escapes through the front windows and open door.
“Dunno,” is all you say with a lazy shrug.
Jake sighs, finding himself caught in a dilemma. He had a smoking hot blonde waiting for him to come back inside and bring her upstairs. So why did he feel so guilty about the thought of leaving you out here to fend for yourself? The two of you were hardly even friends, acquaintances at most. He only saw you after your group project because his friends mingled with your circle of friends after miraculously getting along upon meeting each other.
Yet as he looked down at you staring awe struck up at the sky, he knew he couldn’t just leave you out here alone. Pushing himself off his knees, he groans. “Mind if I join you?”
You shrug. “Mi casa es tu casa. Or no, wait. Tu casa es mi casa. Get it? Cause this is your house?” You laugh at your own joke.
Your laughter is infectious, plaguing Jake with a few chuckles of his own. He lays on the damp ground beside you, resting his arms behind his head. “Not really my house, darling. It’s the fraternity’s.”
“Same thing,” you wave him off.
The two of you lay there in comfortable silence, watching the night sky. Jake had to admit, this was the most fun he has probably had all night even if you were doing nothing but looking at the sky.
Out here with you, Jake felt like he could let his guard down. His cocky, playboy, frat boy persona disappeared. When around everyone else, he felt like he was expected to act a certain way but being out here with you, he knew you expected nothing of the sort.
That was one of the first things that caught him completely off guard when he met you. All it took was one look at him and you were picking him apart, dissecting all of the fronts he put up around others. That’s why you bothered him so much. He barely knew anything about you and somehow, it was like you knew everything about him. You saw through his charms and arrogance, leaving no room for any funny business.
Jake’s shoulders fall from his ears and he lets himself relax.
Hearing you shift beside him, he wants to ask you what was on your mind. His curiosity never failed to make itself known when you were around. Again, he knew that you didn’t drink, so why were you absolutely wasted right now?
The question is on the tip of his tongue, begging to be asked, but he exhales gratefully when you speak up first.
“My parents are assholes who care about nothing but my grades and their image.”
He’s not sure if he was meant to hear what you just said or if you realize it’s him that you’re talking to. So he stays quiet and patiently waits for you to continue.
“It’s parents’ weekend next week and they don’t even bother to answer any of my calls or texts about it. And when I do hear back from them it’s a halfhearted apology that they can’t make because they’re off on the other side of the world.” A dry laugh escapes you. “I don’t know what I was thinking when I invited them. I knew they weren’t going to show up, whether they were actually here or not. I mean… is it too much to ask for them to just show up and be proud of me?”
Jake sits up with a frown on his lips upon hearing your voice crack. He hesitates, unsure of what to say. He was never good at the whole comfort thing, especially when it came to crying girls. He used to try to comfort his sisters when they would cry, but he always just seemed to make things worse. He didn’t want to make you feel worse than you already did. “I’m sure they’re proud of you, Ace. They’d be idiots not to be.”
You scoff, seemingly sobering up just enough to push yourself to sit up beside him. “I guess they’re idiots then.”
Jake’s mouth runs faster than his brain can manage to keep up.“Hey, at least you have parents. I mean...look at Bradley.”
That pulls a snort and a teary laugh from you. “Oh my god! Jesus, Seresin…” You’re laughing. You feel bad that you are, but the delivery of Jake’s words was so nonchalant that you couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “You’re insane.”
He joins in your laughter, glad that he was able to pull your attention from your inner turmoil even if it was just for a minute. “What? Am I wrong?”
“You’re not, but come on. That was so uncalled for,” you shake your head in amusement.
Jake sends you a toothy grin, captivated by the way your smile grows.
“Jake!” The sound of another feminine voice catches both of your attention. The blonde he left inside earlier was running down the porch steps and in their direction. “There you are,” the girl exclaims, throwing her arms around him as she joins him on the ground. She presses an obnoxiously loud kiss to his neck with a smile. “I’ve been waiting for you, Cowboy.”
As if suddenly realizing where you were and who you were with, you tuck your chin to your sternum and avoid his gaze. He grimaces in the other girl’s hold.“Ace–”
You go to stand, still wobbling from the alcohol but you’re coherent enough to know where you were going. “Looks like duty calls, Hangman.”
The girl gives you a cheeky smile as she moves her lips from his neck to the side of his face.
He doesn’t miss the somber note of your tone. Jake watches you sway on your feet as you make your way back inside. He wants to reach out to you, beg you to stay but he holds himself back. With a sigh, he pulls the girl who’s clinging to his side up to her feet and flashes her a halfhearted grin.
Even with his newfound company, Jake couldn’t get you out of his head.
True to his word, Jake never left your side since you woke up. If the doctor’s needed to personally evaluate your condition, he would step outside but immediately come back in once the doctor gave him the okay.
Your parents haven’t made another appearance since that first day and you were relieved. Your friends have been in and out of your hospital room once you were moved to the regular hospital floor from Urgent Care.
Your body was still pretty weak due to the severity of your injuries but you felt stronger than you have in weeks. Being surrounded by your friends, your family, gave you some of that strength back. Most important of all, being with Jake had you feeling invincible.
The doctors were thrilled with your rate of recovery and predicted you would be discharged in the next couple of days.
Though Jake kept his promise to you, you still had a sliver of doubt about where the two of you stood relationship wise. You tried to bring it up a couple of times, but Jake would only respond with a shake of his before telling you not to worry about it now.
You were just a bit afraid that this was his way of letting you down easily. That this was his way of telling you that he loved you, but he just couldn’t be in a relationship with you anymore.
But then he’d do something as small as brushing your hair gently from your face as you ate or held your hand before you fell asleep at night and that little bit of worry would subside, if only for a moment.
You’re laughing at Reuben’s lame attempt to sink Nat’s battleship when Jake gives you a quick kiss on the cheek muttering a soft, “I’ll be right back,” into your ear.
You shoot him a soft smile and nod, before returning your attention to your friends’ antics.
Meanwhile, Jake makes a quick run to the coffee machine down the hall. He barely makes it five steps there when he runs into someone right outside your door.
He looks up and almost spews out an apology before realizing exactly who he ran into.
The look of distaste that falls upon his face is anything but subtle.
Your mother shares a look with your father, who sneers at the sight of him.
Being born and raised by his southern gentleman of a father and kind hearted mother, he knew he still had to show some respect towards your parents despite his dislike for them.
He gives them a nod as a form of greeting and silently prays that they let him slip past them.
“You should leave now before it gets worse,” your mother speaks up.
Jake knew he should probably ignore it. Leave your mother without the satisfaction of getting under his skin. But he couldn’t. He stops in his tracks. Glaring at them from over his shoulder, he hissed, “Excuse me?”
Your mother only shrugs, pulling her handbag tighter over her shoulder. “She’s not worth your time or the trouble. Trust us. As her parents, we would know. How does it make you feel? Knowing you must mean so little to her that she didn’t even mention your existence to her parents.”
Jake was finally tired of biting his tongue. No one, not even your own parents, talked about you like that. Not if he could help it. “With all due respect, I know she didn’t tell you about me and frankly, I don’t blame her considering the way you treat your daughter. Besides, how would either of you know anything? You’re never here so you’d never know just how worth it your daughter is. I would walk through hell for her. Something I know neither of you would ever do.
So no, you don’t know. You don't know just how thoughtful and sweet and caring she is. You don’t know just how incredibly smart she is. Most of all, you would never understand that she is worth everything.”
Jake is breathless at the end of his speech. His chest heaves as he catches his breath and harshly swallows from his passionate spiel. You were everything and the idea that anyone would think otherwise astonished him.
Your mother barely bats an eye. “Well, I guess you wouldn’t mind completely taking her off our hands then. Considering she moved so far away from us for college, you can tell my daughter to not even bother coming back home to visit us because apparently, we’re never here for her anyway.” She storms past Jake in suppressed fury, muttering to herself, “The Bahamas!”
Your father, on the other hand, pauses for a moment. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something and glances through the doorway before looking back at Jake and clearing his throat. “Just, um, just tell her the hospital bill will be taken care of once it comes in the mail.” He gives one last look at your hospital room before scurrying in the same direction your mother had gone.
A sigh of relief escapes Jake’s lips from the encounter, diminishing his prior craving for caffeine.
He makes his way back into the room to see three pairs of eyes settled on him. Jake’s a bit unnerved at all the attention he’s receiving and he’s slightly confused by the way Nat, Reuben, and you were all staring at him.
He nervously chuckles, running a hand down the back of his neck.
Reuben suddenly stands up, grabbing his battleship board. “I think we should continue this outside, right Nat?”
She nods with a smile grabbing her board as well. “Yeah, let’s. We’ll give you two a minute.” Natasha squeezes your hand as she ushers out of the room.
Jake shifts back and forth on his feet, feeling a heat of embarrassment flow through him. “You heard all of that, didn’t you?”
A look he can’t fully decipher on your face. “Yeah, I did.”
“I am so sorry if I crossed a line I just—“
“I love you.” You cut him off teary eyed.
“What?” He breathes, the wideness of his growing smile no longer contained.
You give him a smile of your own that matches the look of love and pure happiness that lights up his features. “I said I love you. I heard you, that first night you stayed over but I was too afraid to say it back. Just in case you didn’t mean it the way I did anymore. But then you…”
Jake cups your face in his hands, nodding to encourage you to take your time.
“But then I heard what you said to my parents and no one has ever stood up for me that way.”
His thumbs begin to trace gentle patterns onto the apples of your cheeks.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I love you and I’m sorry if I ever made you feel otherwise.” A tear finally escapes from the corner of your eye that gets gently pressed away by Jake’s lips.
“Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry if I ever made you doubt my love.”
You shake your head, desperately hoping he understands that none of that matters now. “You’re here now. That’s what matters. I love you, Jake Seresin.”
Finally, after days of waiting, he kisses you softly on the lips. It’s not rough or hungry, despite how long he’s been waiting for this moment. It’s soft, delicate, and full of love. It’s passionate and heartwarming. It’s the kind that you could feel all the way to the tips of your toes. Just like the first time.
“I love you, Ace. You’ll never have to doubt that again.”
Your relationship, just like your body, wasn’t one hundred percent healed. There were still many things the two of you had to talk about.
However, knowing that Jake loved you didn’t make the unspoken parts so scary. Having him, loving him, is enough.
a/n: a super duper, huge thank you to @blue-aconite for beta reading and being just the best support system through this entire journey <3 she even swayed my original plans for this so you should thank her for jake and ace getting back together sooner that anticipated lol as usual, reblogs, feedback, and comments are all greatly appreciated and the inbox is always open
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#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin x reader#hangman x reader#jake seresin x f!reader#jake seresin x you#jake seresin x y/n#hangman x you#hangman x y/n#hangman x f!reader#jake seresin oneshot#hangman oneshot#frat!jake seresin x reader#college!au#hangman x ace 📚#loving you universe#demxters writing
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THG is the only pop culture story I can think of where the heroes (Katniss and Peeta) are disabled* and their happy ending doesn't require that they be "fixed" in order to be happy. IMO, part of why there's such controversy over the ending of the books in particular is that Collins wrote the pov of Katniss as a woman who is content and loves her life and her spouse and kids, but she's still very clearly mentally ill (and arguably somewhere on the spectrum). She has coping strategies and her life is good, but she will never be "normal" and Collins doesn't let the audience think that.
The one part, where she talks about how she handles the darker days, when she's really struggling, never fails to move me:
I’ll tell them that on bad mornings, it feels impossible to take pleasure in anything because I’m afraid it could be taken away. That’s when I make a list in my head of every act of goodness I’ve seen someone do. It’s like a game. Repetitive. Even a little tedious after more than twenty years. But there are much worse games to play. (Mockingjay, 332)
It's hard to express how important that is to me. Someone doesn't have to be "normal" to lead a good life. Someone doesn't have to be "normal" to have a life worth living, to give and receive love in good ways.
And, so, when people look at the villain in the prequel and say "he's just crazy, that's why he's evil. He's just a psycho, he's nuts," it's so out of place, it's so dissonant to me -- I think that's absolutely not the kind of story Collins would tell, given her prior handling of disability.
I don't think she's suddenly turned into a Victorian writer where you can know someone is evil because they're disabled because the writer thinks disabled people are warped creatures incapable of doing anything but bringing evil into the world. And the way people assert this, as if it's the pure, wholesome, most politically advanced reading of the prequel, is just - it doesn't compute for me. I don't understand how people get there.
I studied (for years) the treatment of mentally ill people in the mid-20th Century US. It was horrific. US forced sterilization and eugenics laws actually inspired N/azi Germany's forced sterilization, eugenics, and mass murder campaigns against mentally ill and disabled people. Nice, normal people have repeatedly convinced themselves that torturing and killing disabled people is how they will "purify" their society - they've done great evil in the name of rooting out the people evil is supposedly located within biologically.
Is it so hard to believe that people with normal brains do evil? Is it truly so impossible? Even in a story where the Games are about how a lot of people, the majority of whom are neurotypical, can be brought, via media presentation and entertainment techniques, into taking pleasure in their participation in evil? It's so hard to fathom that evil can't simply be located in someone being "psycho"?
Ballad already has Dr Gaul, who is evil and clearly neurodivergent. If Snow is too then the message starts to get kind of worrying? IMO, Coriolanus is more effective as a kind of “everyman” as an 18 year old - an example of the incentive structures (rewards and punishments) and propaganda that motivate “normal” people to go along. Of course, he will later become something far worse than that, someone who takes control of this thing, who uses his intimate knowledge of it and his insight into other “normal” people to make it worse, but that’s not the part of his life we see the most of. The part the book focuses on provides what I consider a powerful depiction of how ordinary people are acculturated into corrupt societies.
It's fiction so there's all kinds of interpretations that the text can support and exploring those is good. It's a stronger text because it has ambiguities and can be interpreted more than one way. But the intensity of some of the rhetoric is an unsettling contrast to what I've thought, for over a decade, Collins' themes and pov are as a writer.
*Shame on the films for removing Peeta's physical disability, though; in the books he lost a leg during their first Games
#thg meta#my meta#i'm gonna try to leave it at this now - i don't want to keep letting this bother me so much#the hunger games#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#maybe Coriolanus Snow is the evil neurotypical representation we need lol#i'm going to unsubscribe from the reddit i think#that is where i am seeing a lot of this#and it's just not worth it
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Insurance: Questions to ask my new Marketplace plan
Below is an approximate tree of questions I intend to ask my insurer.
# Ask: Can procedure code 58661 [Laparoscopy, surgical; with removal of adnexal structures (partial or total oophorectomy and/or salpingectomy)] be covered under diagnosis code Z30.2 [Encounter for sterilization]?
YES is expected. This only confirms they cover salpingectomy as sterilization, which is the norm among insurers by now.
## If YES, ask: Is coverage under diagnosis code Z30.2 limited to one procedure per lifetime?
### If YES, ask: Can procedure code 58661 be covered under diagnosis code Z80.41 [Family history of malignant neoplasm of ovary]?
#### If YES, ask: What, if any, documentation do I need to provide?
#### If NO, ask: Let's say I self-pay for the procedure itself. If there was a complication resulting from the procedure, would treatment of that complication be covered?
### If NO, get confirmation: I've already had a procedure under diagnosis code Z30.2 back in 2013. If I had another one this year, would it be covered?
#insurance::marketplace#insurance::marketplace::bcbs#insurance::contact#strategy::sterilization#strategy::cancer-prev#strategy::self-pay
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I wanted to ask you something controversial bc I feel like you're willing to go against common consensus when your judgement disagrees. My question is, is self harm always bad? When I start spiraling, I hurt myself and that immediately helps me calm down and get grounded. I can get similar effects more slowly if I go for a run, but it's bc it hurts (after a while). My therapist says the running is a healthier choice, but isn't it the same? I'm releasing endorphins and getting reconnected to my body via pain either way. What do you think?
Self-harm is not always bad! Self-harm is just a strategy that has its benefits, costs, and use cases, and we would all be a lot better served if we discussed it dispassionately rather than treating it as wrong, scary, or disgusting.
People self-harm for the endorphins, because it provides grounding and stimulation without the use of any substances, in order to blunt sensory overwhelm, to kick the body into a relaxed state following a meltdown, to express control over their bodies when they're otherwise being controlled and denied agency, as an alternative to suicide, as a form of self-stimulation, and probably for dozens of other equally understandable reasons that I can't think of at the moment.
Self-harm is not innately good nor bad, and abstinence is not the only responsible way to approach a person who is self-harming. I believe a harm reduction framework to self-harm is self-evidently more responsible and morally correct than trying to force all self-harmers to stop. Providing wound care, safe, sterile instruments, supervision, and less-damaging alternative forms of self-harm to the people that engage in it is the way to go, and first and foremost we should be guided by the belief that the self-harming person knows what they need best.
If you're interested in learning more about this, I recommend the book Saving Our Own Lives by Shira Hassan. A harm reductionist approach to self-harm is out there! The groundwork has already been laid for this approach. This essay of mine also does touch on the idea a bit:
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So how do you imagine snail love darts and necrontyr working/combining? Cause I am interested~
Aksjdhsk ahahaha oh god okay here we go
(Tumblr crashed on me three times while I tried to write this, but I will not let that stop me from rambling at length about snail sex, speculative xenobiology, and various ways that necrontyr get to be fucked up little guys.)
Okay, now snails: they use the darts during courtship to deliver hormones that increase the likelihood of fertilizing their partner's eggs; after the several-hours-long mating dance, they'll exchange spermatophores. (Fun fact, the penis, copulatory canal, and dart sac are all located inside the genital pore, on the snail's head. Mating dances can involve a lot of biting.) Snails have bad aim, but it's not uncommon for both snails to end up getting stabbed during courtship.
Okay. Some assumptions/general thoughts: necrontyr do not have "dual-use" reproductive/waste elimination systems (inferred from Trazyn's hilarious disgust at the idea, but honestly it would be entirely believable for him to have completely lost any and all memories of necrontyr biology). Most higher order animals do (they're efficient!), but you start to see ones that don't when you get down to bugs and marine creatures, so that's what kicked off this train of thought.
I'm assuming also there is relatively little sexual dimorphism among necrontyr (not for any particular reason, although my understanding is that actual female necrons are a relatively new thing in wh40k lore, so that fits). And finally, everyone constantly dying of turbo cancer has led to a 'throw everything but the kitchen sink at it' evolutionary approach to reproductive strategies.
"Copulatory canal" is a deeply unsexy phrase, btw. So are most words we use when talking about sex, unfortunately. *sigh*
Okay, so, love darts. Pretty much only ever used by nobles/the military, because in the upper classes of society, sex isn't about reproduction, it's about reinforcing social hierarchies. And necrontyr social hierarchies tend to be inherently about violence in one way or another. Sexual dominance is generally more about who gets stabbed with the dart than it is about which penis is going where. (That's still a factor, but it's secondary, since genital configurations/functionality can be a bit of a wildcard.) Snails take an egalitarian approach to sex; necrontyr categorically do not. Both parties consenting to be darted would be considered weird and perverted.
Anyway. While many necrontyr do only have one set of functional reproductive organs by the time they reach adulthood (either because the other set was always vestigial or because it gets removed to reduce the spread of cancer), both sets are usually present in some fashion. Sterility would be fairly common, but medical technology is able to mitigate some of that; the lower classes, at least, need to be able to breed like rabbits to feed the war machine. Gender is mostly divorced from reproductive role by the time biotransference happens; in addition to male and female, there would have been at least one other normative gender, possibly two (to account for both null and multimodal genders). Gender fluidity would have been common and largely unremarkable for necrontyr. (It's still largely unremarkable for necrons, but it's not particularly common; they're mostly fixed with whatever gender they had at biotransference.)
The dart sac would be located in their mouths, under the tongue; it's meant to be ejected into the soft tissue of the mouth, but it's sharp enough to pierce the skin anywhere. (This does mean kissing can be Complicated, or at least somewhat subversive, depending on everyone's social standing.) Normally it gets broken down and absorbed by the recipient's body; pulling one out tends to be extremely uncomfortable/painful.
Kind of going off ancient greek/roman sexual mores here; it would be entirely unthinkable, for example, for Obyron to be the penetrative partner in either sense with Zahndrekh. (Then again, Zahndrekh is a shameless pervert.) Sex between two social equals is generally accompanied by an agreement- sometimes tacit, sometimes explicit- about not using the darts. Doing so would be an overt act of aggression. Often, to prevent any potential misunderstandings, they'll voluntarily empty their dart sacs ahead of time.
Forcing someone to empty their dart sac prior to sex is a pretty common form of sexual humiliation. When done voluntarily, it's a sign of submission or respect. (Darts usually have a refractory period of a few days, depending on the person's overall health. Single-chambered dart sacs are typical, but multiples aren't unheard of. Leads to occasional 'surprise! You thought I was submitting to you but now you're getting fucked instead' situations.)
The exact cocktail of hormones and neurochemicals it injects the other person with would vary somewhat between individuals, but can potentially vary widely between dynasties or social classes due to genetic/geographic/cultural differences. Some might include a mild paralytic agent; some sort of euphoric effect is also common. (This is all in addition to the original function, which, uh. Is to make the recipient more likely to get pregnant.) The shape of the dart varies in a similar fashion, ranging from a straight, smooth bone spike to something more elaborate with barbs or fluting.
(A bloody mouth can signify a lot of things to necrontyr- in addition to violence or illness, it's also inherently erotic. Necrons who remember this try very, very hard not to think about it when confronted with Flayed Ones.)
(Yenekh: *very sexily smearing his mouth with blood and draping himself all over Oltyx*
Crypteks have their own social hierarchies within their conclaves, but they're usually not as concerned with sexual politics as nobles and the military tend to be. Most people believe that crypteks all lace their love darts with poison, and the crypteks don't try to discourage that assumption. Some of them probably do, tbh.
Oltyx: *oblivious, can't stop thinking about how pretty Yenekh is*
The rest of the flayed ones: *still not sure why their king and his consort haven't fucked nasty in a pile of carrion yet. Maybe they need a bigger pile of carrion? Yes, that's probably it. They will take care of this for their beloved king.*)
Necrons, of course, don't have genitalia, but they can still stab each other with love dart analogues- this ranges from things like executive buffer override packages sent via interstitial channel, to actually physically jamming a spike of necrodermis into a neural input node. (From a purely aesthetic/romantic standpoint I also like the idea of love darts constructed out of crystallized core flux. The first time Zahndrekh does that to Obyron he goes into complete cascade failure and takes several hours to reboot.)
If Orikan and Trazyn did have sex pre-biotransference, one of them would have darted the other without permission (probably accidentally, being that they are both intensely nerdy losers and thus Bad At Sex by necrontyr standards), setting off a sixty-five million year hate-sex feud that neither of them can even remember the origin of. Orikan would've gone after Trazyn's mouth with a pair of pliers at some point; joke's on him, Trazyn's into that.
(Trazyn does have a collection of necrontyr love darts in the archives- all of them ones he collected personally when he was alive. He has no absolutely no memory of slutting it up back in the day, though, and probably doesn't even realize what they are. Sannet, unfortunately, does remember, and wishes he didn't. He has had to put up with so, so much over the years.)
#nattering#warhams#well i have now officially thought about this Too Much ahahaha#this is what i get for trying to be funny; now everything's gotten slightly out of hand#am i even going to use any of these ideas? who knows. they are free to a good home
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In 1937, urban planners debated turning Tel Aviv into a ‘Riviera city’ in a proposal called the Grunblatt scheme, which is reminiscent of Le Corbusier’s unrealised 1933 Plan Obus to demolish the Cape of Algiers and construct an elevated highway along its coastline. Today, many of the Palestinian beaches belong to private developers and hotels. This is part of a longstanding policy of effacement, whereby Palestinian scenes of dispossession become sites of Zionist leisure. After the massacre of residents in al-Tantura (occupied May 22–23, 1948; population of 1,500) in 1948, the Palestinian population was driven out. A mass grave of several dozen bodies remains, and today it lies under the parking lot of Dor beach, near Haifa. These processes are not unique to Palestine, architecture and redevelopment play essential roles in the construction of a revisionist urban coloniality. Both Tel Aviv and Algiers were given the moniker ‘White City’.
But Tel Aviv is not particularly white. Off-white maybe, mostly grey. Sharon Rotbard’s WHITE CITY, BLACK CITY (2015) examines the Bauhaus style that is the city’s pride. The Ashkenazi elite of Tel Aviv sought refuge in the ‘values of order and rationality’, she explains, against ‘the amorphous black chaos’ of the present. ‘It enabled many Tel Avivians to conduct wealthy bourgeois lifestyles, and at the same time to expose a socialist and progressive façade, to take solace in the assurance that while their city was clearly grey and faded, it was actually white and clean; that although it was no more than a provincial Western outpost, it was as international as the International Style; and that although it was modern, it was historic.’
The early essays about the local International Style in HA’IR and HA’ARETZ newspapers praised it as neither historic nor revolutionary, but as a sensible innovation, emphasising ‘usability, economy, modesty, cleanliness’. Tel Aviv’s Bauhaus represents the aestheticisation of sterility, which was the style’s original function, in a clear through line from the sanatorium that helped to popularise it. The export of this architecture to the colonies held the promise of ridding the cities of their distinct character, of curing the tropics of their diseases.
These architectures, then, reinforce a psychogeography of ‘cleanliness’. In light of the increasing visibility and political power of the messianic-Zionist bloc in the Israeli governing coalition (Benjamin Netanyahu’s Likud alongside the Hasidic political parties United Torah Judaism and Shas), the re-emphasis of Tel Aviv’s White City’s heritage serves as a coping strategy of sorts for Tel Aviv’s settlers in particular. It allows them to self-narrate as ‘liberal’ and to separate themselves from an unwashed ‘Other Israel’, supporting the story that Tel Aviv’s relationship to the rest of the state is of a cosmopolitan vestigial organ. This is romantic, but untrue. While the fanatical settler foot soldiers that roam the frontier are perhaps the most visible parts of the Israeli project, a quieter enemy remains at work – the state’s bureaucratic violences, dressed as system planners and administrators. Tel Aviv’s ghouls in their windowless offices stare at population registries of Palestinians, a blinking red button in front of them, adding to their press releases a Biblical or archaeological citation to camouflage the ethnic cleansing.
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Is it sad that your entire life is about trans people and having the same values as Nazis LMAO 🤣 you cis creeps have no life
Reported for hate speech.
Seriously though, this is the very first thing I saw when I clicked on this person's blog:
The followers of transgender ideology are getting more and more hysterical, hateful and murderously extreme: accusing someone against the forced sterilization, mutilation and medical experimentation upon trans-identified people of being a Nazi, all while openly and gleefully wishing for the murderous eradication of anyone who thinks differently to them.
It seems pretty obvious at this point that we're going to witness more and more actual terrorist acts from them (besides already routinely threatening and punching women at demonstrations), because they have so strongly formed a militant group identity around what should in reality only be considered a very rare medical condition people want to help, and are hating everyone else outside of it.
This is an utterly foolish and futile campaign strategy, because of what a minority of the population it is they necessarily represent: the literal Nazis of the 1920s/30s - or even the suffragettes before them - actually built their cause around claiming (wrongly, but still) to speak for half or more of the entire population, and so aimed to unite the majority, whereas the transgenderists are reliant upon the 99.9% of people that they are loudly hating and wishing violence upon to support them. Not the sharpest tools in the shed.
This is why many people are starting to say the LGBs need to lose the Ts from their movement, because it's not the Ls, Gs and Bs that are daily doing this evil and unhinged stuff, but the obviously unstable and indefensible acts of the most recent additions to their ranks are badly affecting the goodwill of the wider population to the coalition movement as a whole and diminishing popular support.
You know, I'm starting to come around to Elon's half-serious classification of the term "c*s" as a slur: I've never really taken it seriously before, because it's so ludicrous, but you can tell that people like the one above are genuinely using it with all the hate and contempt they can muster; it being, within their cult, the very worst thing they feel they can call someone else. So that really IS "hate speech", if anything is.
With that in mind, from today on I'm going to block anyone who uses that slur on Tumblr. That is what this ask has accomplished.
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Dr. Omiata's Depravity
Dr. Ellie Omiata, a cardiologist hailing from the 30th century, had achieved everything she could in her profession. Her expertise had saved countless lives, but in the sterilized and automated reality of her time, she felt an aching void.
Ellie became a cardiologist with the desire to protect and care for vulnerable life. Throughout her life, she had a hero complex, an intense desire to shield the fragile, the helpless, the downtrodden. She read countless stories of damsels in distress and imagined herself the knight in shining armor. However, her fantasies were much different... darker, not the hero, but the villain.
She hoped to be a heart surgeon, but her desired profession was obsolete. Surely it was an amazing thing, highly successful doctorless organ transplants... but for Ellie, this left her without a place in the world. There were no knights, and now no heart surgeons. People no longer needed saving, she thought.
Longing for purpose, Ellie became a temporal explorer, and with countless tales and fantasies in her mind, she took a one-way trip to the savage lands of a war-torn timeline. landing herself smack in the middle of a medieval Nordic civilization.
A stark contrast to her futuristic, technological world. It was a time defined by relentless war, brutal violence, and no place for the frail. Standing amidst the icy landscapes and hardened warriors, Ellie's dark skin and voluminous hair made her a beacon of otherworldly charm, a symbol of exotic mysticism from foreign lands that had not yet been witnessed by these people.
The king, intrigued by her unique appearance and captivated by her advanced medical knowledge, spared her the typical fate of an outsider. They sensed an opportunity in Ellie's keen intellect and apparent strangeness, a utility that could serve their cause well. Yet she didn't ask for a comfortable position within the castle. Ellie asked for something different. Her desires outshined what was believed to be common sense. Her wish granted, Ellie found herself granted a position many loathed, yet she coveted – a captain of the guard. The final word on strategy in the battlefield.
Despite her lack of allegiance to the kingdom, she relished the role that offered an intoxicating cocktail of power and intrigue. Her knowledge of human anatomy, blended with her understanding of martial arts, rendered her an indomitable warrior on the battlefield, effortlessly thwarting the many adversaries that dared to challenge her.
Despite her desires to be the hero, she found the most thrill in being the warrior. the ender of heroes and villains alike, what she was... it was hard to tell.
Ellie wasn't moved by battle, what she wanted was power. A sense of control over life and death that she had never felt in her time. The more she acted on her whims, the more she felt that maybe her desires were sick, depraved... selfish.
However, there was no going back. From now on, she would fulfill her deepest desires. Her weapon of choice was a large war hammer. A tool of blunt heavy destruction, she felt like this was the best way to exert force while giving her control over how it was applied.
Ellie thought back to the tales of delicate, fair-skinned women being hoisted upon the white horse of their saviors. The desire to live that fantasy was all she could think of, and now she had the position to do it... or some strange version of that.
Ellie wasn't able to ride into the sunset like in the stories, but beggars cant be choosers, and in this world, the desperation of savage war brought everyone to the battlefield at times, and slaughter was blind to beauty. Frailty met quick ends. Not for Ellie though.
This was her moment - a crude, perverse twist on her romance fantasies. There was no romance, only salvation in the blood-soaked ground. The savagery of war a canvas where she could paint her unique narrative.
Her gaze, wielded like a precision tool, was constantly scanning, evaluating, searching. Among the hordes of battle-hardened soldiers like a depraved beast. Some day, Ellie's eyes quickly fell upon a woman – blonde, fierce, yet possessing a delicate grace. Her pale visage a vibrant beacon. The woman was like a strikingly vivid palette amidst the monochrome of warriors, an unexpected anomaly in a battlefield bereft of grace.
Ellie became the self-appointed guardian of this precious gem, determined to protect her from the clutches of her own bloodthirsty squad which had a hunger for easy pickings. The sight of this radiant woman made her heartbeat race, not with bloodlust but with a deep, undeniable fascination. It was as if the chaotic battlefield had morphed into an exhilarating treasure hunt, the treasure being these living, breathing, beautiful Nordic women.
Ellie's intentions were clearer to her than ever - to salvage these creatures from the cruel jaws of war, and to preserve their splendor for herself. Ellie could see the perversion of her instincts in full display, but the desire was so great, she couldn't stop herself.
The battlefield, a dreaded arena of death, had now become her playground, a hunting ground to satiate her unorthodox desires. The rush of adrenaline in her veins was palpable as she locked eyes with the blonde beauty.
She was yet another savage on the battlefield, but with the precision of a surgeon. Even as a predator, surely her prey would at least be grateful for a better outcome than death, she thought.
As they engaged, the woman's sword was fast, though Ellie herself was graceful, and predicting. She studied this game of war like chess and became a grand master. Ellie struck at the perfect moment, sweeping the blonde's feet from beneath her, casting her to the earth.
She then kicked away the sword, leaving the woman defenseless and bewildered on the rough battlefield floor. The sight of this exquisite creature, rendered vulnerable amidst the grit and grime, filled Ellie with an unprecedented sense of desire. Every exasperated breath filling this magnificent form lit up Ellie's senses. It was nothing like her fantasies... it was better. The battlefield had always been a stage for displaying might, but for Ellie, this was a new, intoxicating form of dominance.
With her adrenaline surging, Ellie approached the woman cautiously, the woman's chest heaving vividly beneath her. The blonde was defeated, awaiting the cruel and merciless strike of the heavy mallet, but defiant. To the look of confusion in those blue eyes, Ellie gingerly placed the head of her war hammer over the woman's billowing chest.
She stood there in awe, feeling the rapid pulse of delicate life through the handle. As she pressed down harder, the woman's heartbeat became more vivid, then stuttered, a defiant drumroll against the encroaching steel.
Ellie reveled in the sensation. The strength of this woman's heart, its indomitable vitality, was now at her mercy. It was a testament to the woman's vibrant life, yet it was helpless under Ellie's power. The heart struggled and strained under the oppressive weight, succumbing slowly to the inexorable pressure.
Ellie observed the woman's battle for breath, her struggle against the metal, with an admiration tinged with disbelief. This was her treasure, her trophy of war, and she found herself enchanted by the rawness of this spectacle. Even as the woman's vigor ebbed away, her confusion turning to exhaustion, Ellie was in awe at the fight she put up. Her eyes, once fierce, now pleading and confused, fluttered close as unconsciousness claimed her. Finally, Ellie lifted her weapon.
As the woman lie there unconscious, the feeling of her heart's struggle was vivid in Ellie's mind. She straddled the woman and listened in. Its beats were soft and slow but recovering.
A surge of satisfaction rippled through Ellie at the sight of her captured prize, this fair-skinned angel now her responsibility. She had now to protect her trophy from the inevitable spoils of war, a task she accepted with a curious blend of anticipation and determination. This was her battlefield, and she had just taken her first treasure... alive.
Ellie, carrying her new trophy, departed from the blood-soaked battlefield towards her home in the kingdom. Usually, a mere shelter from the harsh Nordic weather. With a blend of anticipation and caution, she bound the woman's wrists and ankles together, taking care not to make it too tight.
She gently lowered the woman onto the bed, her taut form a stark contrast against the rough-hewn linens. Ellie then lied down beside her, enveloping the unconscious woman in a tender hold to warm her. The role she played shifted between pet, trophy, and love at Ellie's whims. Her head found a resting place on the woman's chest, and as Ellie closed her eyes, she was serenaded by the rhythmic lullaby of the woman's recovering heartbeat.
With every beat that echoed against her ear, Ellie found herself more and more captivated by the living, breathing prize she had claimed. Her fingers tentatively ventured across the woman's body, exploring the gentle curve of her waist, the softness of her relaxed belly. She traced the delicate blue streaks beneath the woman's pale skin - the veins that carried life and vitality within this ethereal creature.
Ellie marveled at her fortune, her chest swelling with a sense of triumph and disbelief. She had taken her first victory, and claimed s supple, delicate, breathing trophy with a heartbeat as her spoils of war.
As she lay there, the woman's steady resilient life lulling her into a trance-like state, Ellie knew she was in the right timeline.
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Insurance: Certificates of Coverage for Marketplace plans -- is there no "one per lifetime" limitation?
I'll need to switch to a Marketplace plan effective 3/1 anyway, so I've been shopping for a plan.
What's a Certificate of Coverage?
Here's a good working definition: "A certificate of coverage is an official contract that outlines what an insured is entitled to, and what they aren't insured for, under a health insurance policy."
Of the Marketplace plans available to me, most haven't published Certificates of Coverage, but some have. In my unusual situation, I can only consider Marketplace plans that have published Certificates of Coverage.
Implications of Certificates of Coverage
Regarding the possibility of self-pay:
Some of the Marketplace plans' Certificates explicitly include coverage for treatment of complications related to non-covered services. Notably, none of them exclude this coverage. In contrast, my current private insurance plan explicitly excludes this coverage.
Regarding possible coverage as sterilization:
Under my current private insurance plan, coverage of sterilization under diagnosis code Z30.2 [Encounter for sterilization] is limited to one procedure per member per lifetime. However, these Marketplace plans' Certificates don't state the same limitation. Certificates are contracts, and typically insurers try to exclude everything they can; so, while the absence of an exclusion doesn't imply an inclusion, it's a good sign.
I also noticed that certain other procedures--like bariatric surgery, for example--are limited to one procedure per member per lifetime by these Marketplace plans' Certificates. That tells me that Marketplace plans can impose "one per lifetime" limitations in general, which makes it more notable that there is no stated "one per lifetime" limitation on sterilization coverage.
No stated limitation--I can't be sure yet that there is truly no such limitation, however.
Regarding possible coverage under gender-affirming care:
All Marketplace plans available to me cover gender-affirming care, so this is still a potential route.
Additional considerations
Network: I can only consider Marketplace plans under which all relevant providers and facilities are in-network.
No referral to see a specialist: I can only consider Marketplace plans that don't require a referral from a PCP to see a specialist. I haven't involved my PCP in this process at all. I'd prefer to keep it that way, even if it means I have to pay more for a PPO plan.
#insurance::marketplace#insurance::certificate#insurance::network#insurance::hmo-ppo#insurance::marketplace::bcbs#insurance::marketplace::bcn#insurance::marketplace::uhc#insurance::marketplace::molina#strategy::self-pay#strategy::sterilization#strategy::gac
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