#blood born illness can be fatal

[akazzzaa]

Gyutaro, Akaza, Muzan, Rui and Kokushibo reaction when Y/N says "I was born with a sick body, I die with a sick body" (it's not a fatal disease, only Reader has a lot of them that stay forever and don't can be cured)

Thank you for your ask! I enjoyed writing this! I was going to write head cannons but I accidently wrote a mini story lol

I understand that the illness is not fatal but reader is human and will die eventually I hope this clears confusion about somethings i've written : ))

Summary- Reader is ill a lot and tells them, "I was born with a sick body, I die with a sick body" Their reaction.

Genre- Angst

Warnings- Mentions of blood/ turning into a demon/ illness

Muzan

"I was born with a sick body," Y/N confessed, her voice barely more than a whisper, "and I will die with a sick body."

Muzan's expression remained impassive as he regarded Y/N. He had known about her condition from the moment they had first met, and he had grown fond of her, even though his affection for anyone was a rare occurrence. Y/N had brought a unique warmth into his otherwise cold existence.

Y/N continued, "But I don't want to die, Muzan. I want to live, to be with you forever."

Muzan's eyes narrowed, and a wicked grin crept across his face as he considered Y/N words. The thought of granting her eternal life, and ensuring that they would be together for all time, was tantalizing.

With a swift, predatory movement, Muzan closed the distance between himself and Y/N, his fingers brushing against her fragile skin. His voice, as smooth as silk but laced with a dangerous undertone, rumbled, "Are you sure, Y/N? Once I make you a demon, there's no turning back. You will lose your humanity, and you will become a demon, just like me."

Y/N nodded, tears glistening in her eyes. "I don't care, Muzan. I want to be with you, no matter the cost''

Muzan, whose very existence was built on manipulation and cruelty, found himself conflicted. For the first time in centuries, he felt a strange emotion welling up within him—an emotion he could scarcely identify as love. He leaned in and pressed his lips against Y/N forehead, leaving a mark that would burn like a brand.

In a voice filled with dark promise, Muzan murmured, "Very well, Y/N. I will grant your wish, but remember this: Once you become a demon, there's no turning back. You will belong to me for all eternity."

Y/N nodded, her heart filled with a mix of fear and devotion.

Kokushibo

Kokushibo had done everything in his power to find a cure for her, but his relentless quest had taken a toll on him, leading him deeper into darkness. Desperation weighed heavily upon him as he knelt by her bedside, his eyes filled with anguish.

"I was born with a sick body," she whispered, her voice barely more than a fragile breath, "I die with a sick body."

Kokushibo's heart ached at her words. He had exhausted every possible means to heal her, and the realization that he might lose her was unbearable. Kokushibo's hand trembled as he reached out to touch her frail fingers. "No," he pleaded, "I cannot bear to see you suffer any longer, my love. There must be a way to save you, to make you immortal, to grant you the strength and health you deserve."

Tears welled up in his eyes, and with a mixture of sorrow and determination, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. A chilling aura enveloped them both as he poured his demonic blood into her weakened body, desperately seeking a way to transform her into a demon.

The transformation began to take place. Her once fragile form contorted, her skin paling further, and her eyes now gleaming with a demonic hue. She gasped, the pain and agony of the transformation evident on her face. Kokushibo watched in a mixture of hope and despair as her body changed, an aura of darkness replacing the fragility that had marked her human existence.

Akaza

Y/N closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her thoughts. She took a deep breath and finally spoke the words that had been haunting her for so long. "I was born with a sick body, Akaza," she confessed. "I will die with a sick body."

Akaza's grip on her hand tightened, and his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow. He drew her close, wrapping his strong arms around her delicate frame. "Y/N, no matter what, I love you," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I don't care about the state of your body. We will face this together, as long as we have, and cherish the time we have left."

As the moonlight bathed the two lovers in its gentle glow, Y/N was overcome with a mixture of relief and gratitude. She never thought she could be loved so deeply by a demon, and in that moment, she knew she had made the right choice in sharing her secret with Akaza. But just as they held each other, an unexpected surge of emotions coursed through Akaza. His demon instincts, usually well-contained, took over in an uncontrollable burst of rage and grief.

Y/N gasped, startled by the sudden change in Akaza. She realized that he had reacted this way not out of anger but out of love and despair. He couldn't bear the thought of losing her. Tears welled up in Akaza's golden eyes as he held Y/N close. "I won't let you go," he vowed, "I'll do whatever it takes to keep you by my side, for as long as we have."

Gyutaro

"Gyutaro," she whispered softly, her voice trembling, "I was born with a sick body, and I will die with a sick body."

Gyutaro's expression softened, a rarity for the bloodthirsty demon. He had known about her condition, but hearing her speak these words pierced his heart like a sword. He turned to her, his eyes reflecting an unusual tenderness, and said, "I don't care about your illness, my love. I only care about being with you."

Unbeknownst to them, Muzan Kibutsuji, had been watching their love story unfold. Muzan, always seeking to create powerful demons, saw an opportunity to turn Y/N into one. He couldn't resist the chance to corrupt the innocence and love that Gyutaro and Y/N shared.

Muzan, using his powers, infiltrated Gyutaro mind and corrupted Y/N's body. She began to transform into a demon, her once-kind eyes turning crimson, and her gentle smile now twisted into a sinister grin.

The night Gyutaro discovered Y/N's transformation was a nightmare he could never forget. He walked into their home to find Y/N in her demonic state, her eyes filled with malice and hunger. She lunged at him with inhuman speed, her fangs bared and claws extended.

Rui (platonic- he views you as family)

In a dimly lit room, the air was heavy with an unsettling tension. Rui, sat on a throne carved from his webs. His eyes gleamed with curiosity and intrigue as a fragile, pale-skinned human stood before him, her voice trembling with vulnerability.

"I was born with a sick body," the human confessed, her voice barely above a whisper, "and I die with a sick body."

Rui's sharp ears perked up. He had heard countless pleas and confessions over the last two decades, but there was something different about this one. The human's words were not a request for power or salvation, but a raw, unfiltered statement of their own fate.

Rui's expression softened, a rare hint of empathy flickering in his eyes. He understood how you felt for some reason. Intrigued by the human's plight, Rui rose from his throne and approached her. His presence seemed to envelop the room as he reached out a hand, his touch both cold and comforting. "I can offer you a chance," he whispered, his eyes locking onto the human's gaze. "I can make you a part of my family, a demon in your own right. With my power, you will no longer suffer alone, and you will have the strength to face your fate."

The human hesitated for a moment, fear and hope warring within her heart. In that moment, she realized she had nothing left to lose and everything to gain. With a trembling nod, she accepted Rui's offer, and the transformation began.

[shibaraki]

OUR MOURNING GLORY ┊ TODOROKI TOUYA

synopsis: everything born in his body will eventually outgrow it. his love for you should be no different.

tags: GN reader, hanahaki au, strangers to friends to lovers, falling in love, requited unrequited feelings, quirkless reader, villain dabi, vomiting, hanahaki as a chronic illness, quirkless discrimination, lack of self worth, hurt + comfort, mild body horror, morally ambiguous reader, first kisses, very hopeful ending (<- I prommy lol)

wc: 5.4K

A/N: now with lovely cover art from momo! thank you so much!

Dabi really fucking hates doctors, has since he was a kid.

They’re too sterile. The strong antiseptic smell burned his sinuses and being surrounded by entirely white walls set him on edge. As though he had been deposited into a liminal space where time does not exist. A cacophony of suffering, incessant beeping, wheels rolling on old gurneys, echoed footsteps, all coalescing into prickly white noise.

Finding a place that would actually treat him was a hell in and of itself. Bigger hospitals and university medical centres weren’t viable options, given how beefed up security usually was. Seedy back-alley places existed in the areas he liked to haunt, but even the thought of stepping foot into one gave him sepsis.

Quirkless clinics were rare. Most that existed ran out of funding— the government saw no reason to care for a dying species. If you didn’t have a quirk then you had it bad. Citizens were legally required to have it listed under a disability on their medical records, and it wasn’t uncommon for people to be turned away in the emergency room because of it.

Dabi almost walked away that first night. As bad of a guy as he is, there was something inherently wrong about infringing on space that did not belong to him. But you had stepped out into the street for a break, jacket pulled close to your chest, took one look at the blood dried to his cheeks and rallied him inside.

He finds himself back here again, for the nth time. Today makes it an entire year since he met you, and ten full months since he coughed up that first bud. A mild inconvenience turned into an invasive bloom.

“…Hanahaki is a serious disease. It is a condition where vine-like buildup in your airways forms into buds, eventually flowering into…”

Morning glories. Buds of deep-blue, trumpet-shaped blossoms and leafy stems. The delicate petals taste surprisingly bitter, with a bite that lingers in the fissures between his molars after it has been ground into thin paste and swallowed. He had long since gotten used to the astringency— drying his throat, twisting his stomach.

“…At best it causes severe breathing difficulties and discomfort. Worst case scenario, it can be fatal…”

In the beginning he thought it would pass. Dabi has endured sickness all his life and a cough wasn’t about to stop his long laid plans. But it worsened, mutated into something he could not control. He remembers sitting in your bathroom on the toilet lid, the little blue burgeon rolling in the shallow of his palm. It’d been covered in bloody mucus, but still a pip, still harmless.

Any sane person might have been afraid at that moment, realising what fate awaited them. Dabi, however, felt oddly resigned. One in one hundred million. Of course this would happen to him. Death clung to him everywhere he went.

“Dabi, are you listening?”

Doctor Tereda had been the one to stitch him up back then. A quack with a near useless cell activation quirk and glasses lenses thick enough for a bullet to bounce off. You’d dragged him into her office, sat him on the bed with surprising strength, and she attended to him no questions asked.

Dabi tried not to make a habit of visiting one place too often, but between your pleading eyes and his rapidly worsening health, he ended up back in her office more times than he cared to.

He makes a noncommittal sound.

“As a medical professional I must strongly advise you to talk to the individual these feelings have bloomed for,” Terada says. Dabi does not like the sympathetic pinch in her brow. “That is the least invasive option”.

Prying open his chest and baring himself to you seems pretty damn invasive. “Not happening,” he mutters airily.

There’s a sense of satisfaction when her frown strains with frustration. Her glasses slip down the bridge of her nose. “Your case is incredibly advanced. It may be your only chance to tell—”

“You got something wrong with your ears?” he interrupts. The stitches beneath his eyes sting, pulled taut by his glare. “I said no”.

Tereda sighs and turns to her screen, pushing her frames back up. The keyboard clicks under her fingers. Every computer here was ancient, their systems totally outdated, but they made do.

“You have two more options. The best results are produced if both treatments are done together,” she explains. “First is surgery. You’ll be put under general anaesthesia and the disease will be removed along with some surrounding tissue in the lungs for biopsy. Memories of the loved one are usually lost”.

Dabi slouched to feign disinterest, betrayed by the restless bounce of his knee, “And?”

“Your second option is to attend an interpersonal psychotherapy programme,” she lifts her hand to silence him before he can interject. “This is highly recommended to patients after surgery to prevent relapse. But you can do it regardless, as it is helpful in reducing your symptoms, and while the disease becomes chronic, it is more manageable”.

Dabi’s jaw shifts as he grits his teeth, pulling at the staples by his mouth, “Calling me fucking crazy now, eh Doc?”

“No,” she replies cooly, schooling her features into something kinder. “As people we underestimate the influence our mental well being has over our physical condition. Hanahaki disease is rare, yes. But over a quarter of all cases are found to be psychosomatic”.

Dabi laughs dryly and brings a fist down hard, smoke squeezed from between his knuckles marred the desk with black. “So this is of my own making, is that what you’re saying?”

“This isn’t something you plant into yourself, Dabi. It isn’t your fault and I could be completely wrong. I’m not all knowing, I’m just a doctor,” a smooth hand is placed over top of his own in effort to comfort, “But torturing yourself will only feed it”.

He scrambles to his feet, the chair legs scraping piercingly across the tile, and snatches his fist back to hold behind his back. The doctor levels him with a sad, soft look, her upper body still leaned across the table.

“If you leave this as it is it will only hurt you. It is already hurting you,” Tereda continues critically. “We can mitigate this, Dabi. Before it kills you”.

That unearths some ill-gotten memory from the recesses of his brain. A film strip he replays often in solitude; the day Endeavor sat him down and told him he shouldn’t use his quirk anymore. At first it was a fatherly suggestion, unnaturally low and soft. “You should stop. It’s hurting you, Touya,” as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

That never made sense to him. In training they used to focus on fire, usually— on intensifying his flame power— but on occasion they would spar. Between poor footing and wrong steps, Endeavour always reprimanded tears and quick surrender.

“But it hurts…”

“Strong heroes fight through pain,” he said. “The world does not stop just because you are crying. Get up! Or are you weak?”

Touya took it to heart, back then. Clenched his chubby little fists tight and got to his feet with a wobbly snarl on his damp, swollen face.

Young minds are impressionable and his own had already been moulded by the very hands on his shoulders. Endeavour’s fingers had held on tight, dwarfing Touya’s frame; heat soaking through his shirt from those searing palms and the sting of old wounds had been enough to keep him grounded in reality. You should stop this. It’s hurting you.

Those words festered and ate away at his soul like an infection. Giving up was against everything he knew— and against everything Endeavor told him a hero should be. It was not an option he was willing to take, and so Touya trudged forward, just as he was taught.

Eventually Endeavour’s words evolved into demand. He became furious. Touya became accustomed to long sleeves and learned how to treat burns alone. Hands made for saving left oval shaped bruises and finger painted the entire family.

How do you abandon something stitched into the very fabric of your being? Being the Number One hero was his hereditary purpose. His father gave up on him so readily but Touya would have rather died than surrender when it got tough. Giving it up would be dying all the same.

Pain was a toll necessary for growth. He grew until his ambition and greed swallowed him whole. And now, there was you. A garden of weeds in his lungs. You were rooted into the capillaries and harvesting his yearning. Every time he coughed it felt like self immolation; a cruel cycle he can not stop repeating.

Hanahaki discriminates. It happens to those who feel deeply, people whose hearts are hemmed by the ones they love. Dabi is selfish but more than that he is lonely, and you’re the one good thing he has in this shit hole.

Accepting the surgery would just be another loss. A surrender. It wouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things; Dabi is going to die either way. A walking corpse. Skin, esophagus, tear ducts, tissue— his fire burns all of it. Deep within him, eating away at his soft insides like dry grass. And what withstands that heat are the seeds you have unknowingly sown.

There is something disturbingly satisfying about carrying a piece of you to the grave with him, flowers proliferating around the earth that houses him. Call him twisted. It isn’t as if he’s unaware he’s got a few loose screws— he also has no desire to get better.

The silence is broken by the quiet scratch of pen to paper. Doctor Tereda offers a thin smile and slides a prescription across the table, signed and ready to be collected. “Here. This should help with the pain for at least a week or two. We know how easily you burn through medication so… don’t take too long to make your decision,” she hesitates before shaking her head. “And go to the emergency room if your breathing worsens”.

Dabi eyes her suspiciously, grabbing the slip and shoving it into his coat pocket. Worrying at his lower lip he offers her a short nod, the ‘thanks’ implied.

As he turns and makes his way toward the door, Dabi pauses just before turning the handle. He doesn’t look back as he mutters, “Keep this to yourself, yeah? That means no putting it on my records”.

Tereda hums curiously, “No one else has access to your records”.

He scoffed, turning his wrist and pulling the old door to demonstrate his point; a groan reverberates throughout the room as it opens, “Yeah right. This is hardly a fine establishment”.

“I resent that!”

Dabi strides through the familiar corridor toward the waiting room, ignoring Tereda’s indignant shout. He wasn’t off the mark about how shoddy the place is— atleast, in comparison to other medical centres. The building is small and narrow. It was built during the pre quirk era and handed off to the quirkless by the government to honour their status. The whole thing stank of ridicule and it pissed him off the more he thought about it.

You’re exactly where he expects you to be. Sitting pretty at your desk, twiddling your thumbs, keeping watch over the empty space and quietly mumbling some melody from Mount Lady’s latest hair care advert over the unremitting whirr of the fan above.

A laugh bubbles in his chest, drawing your attention, and it chokes him in effort to smother the sound. You are alarmingly predictable. There, plain as day on your computer screen, are his supposedly secure medical records.

Dabi pressed the heel of his hand to his sternum as he violently coughed. You’re talking to him now, on your feet and rubbing along his back. A viscous lump of petals forces its way into his throat and he feels his quirk react. Still, you don’t pull away.

“Deep breath,” God, that’d be nice. “You’re okay. I’ll get you some water,” Don't go.

You stop and let him drag you back by the wrist. He rights himself on his feet and forces the flowers down. “I’m—” bile stings the back of his mouth and he gags, turning his face into his coat collar to hide a grimace.

Dabi exhales and it sounds so thin. “Fuck. I’m fine. Don’t start,” he croaks, hardly convincing. Rooting through his pocket, he shoves his prescription slip forward to distract you, the paper crumpled into a small ball. “Doc gave me a prescription. It’s just a chest infection”.

He lingers and observes as you unwrinkle it. You’re careful to smooth out each corner and wrinkle. The tension swells as the silence stretches. He tempers the urge to snatch it back.

You squint at him, “A dosage this high for a chest infection?”

He shrugs and reaches over his head to yank his coat hood forward. “Doctor’s orders”.

After a beat, you relent and glance over to give him an exasperated smile, “Whatever. As long as it helps clear your lungs. You freaked me out last night with all that wheezing”.

You begin switching off your monitors, patting down at your pockets for the keys. To synchronise with the end of your shift, Dabi purposely chose the last appointment. That was another thing he has been doing a lot— trying to fit his life around yours.

“Watching me sleep now, perv?”

“Yeah. I love when a guy sounds like a punctured squeaky toy, really gets me worked up,” you drawl, falling in line with him after turning off the lights and checking the locks. Tereda would close up the rest.

You brought a tonal shift to his life he couldn’t have anticipated; enough that he regularly spent nights crashing on your couch to wait out the bad weather. There was something about you from the beginning that he couldn’t put a finger on. Nothing as simple as your attractiveness— you had a good heart, but not by society's standards, much like Twice.

A quick internet search would pull up listings of buildings he had burned and the trail of bodies left in his wake. But it didn’t matter. Villain, vigilante, hero, a person is a person, even him.

That first meeting, winter settling in, you admitted to him you were quirkless. A shitty olive branch effort, he’s sure. That whole instinctual radar that comes with being a misfit in this world. You left a strong impression. He recalls how he gave you the name Dabi, cackling harshly as if he were leaving you with a ticking time bomb, and you simply said: “Maybe I’ll see you again. Hopefully without all the blood, next time”.

He latched on and desperately wanted to hate you for it. Yet your arm is linking through his once again, pressed close to his side as the rain hammers down onto the empty street, and everything he can’t bring himself to say has taken root in his windpipe.

“Wanna come up?”

“For coffee?” he swipes his tongue over his teeth, raising a suggestive brow. Your offer is as innocent as it always is, and the sight of you flustered is as welcome as ever.

“Tea, actually,” is your poorly veiled response.

Dabi knows he’s getting too comfortable. You might be quirkless but you’re not stupid. Infact, at times you’re unsettlingly perceptive; his only mercy is that you are too nice to pry.

He should tell you ‘no’. Giran could probably set him up. He might even get away with crashing at the bar. Instead he says, “Not like I’ve got anywhere else to be”.

Your apartment building is nothing to write home about. Slightly run down, maintained by residents rather than their pig landlords. It stands shorter than the neighbouring buildings, the entire right side eaten by withered wisteria. Nobody bats an eyelid at his appearance in a place like this.

Inside is a mirror of the outside. Unremarkable in every way, yet he feels remarkably at home. You go in first, kicking off your shoes without bothering to line them up, waddling to the narrow linen closet in the hallway. You’ve managed to cram a dryer right beneath the shelves, since there was barely any space elsewhere.

“I can grab you something to wear while I put our stuff on a spin”.

The rain sticks to his forehead, thin streaks of black dye running down his temple. Grinning, you hand him an old towel, already stained and fraying at the hem, “You look harmless like this. Like a wet cat”.

He pats carelessly at his face while shucking off his coat. The nerves are long dead and it’s painless. You squawk when the heavy fabric hits the genkan floor with a wet slap. “Dabi!”

“That’s what you get,” he rolls his neck and bends to untie his boots, the towel thrown over his shoulder. “Harmless. I burned down a money laundering front just a few hours ago”.

“I saw it on the news. You’re such a dickhead,” you laugh, heading into the kitchenette. “There was no good reason for you to melt the asphalt of that entire city block”.

A smile works its way onto his face. Gross. “Can’t have them mistaking me for a good guy”.

“You are a good guy”.

“You’re delusional,” he shoots back, an unbearable fondness swelling in his chest. The pressure is the worst part. Spools of vine and leafy green pierced into lung tissue, stems squeezing through his rib cage.

You’ve been staring at him for too long. That sweet smile hasn’t wavered. Dabi clears his throat, first to dispel the awkwardness he feels and then again as a stray petal sticks to his throat. It brushes against his tonsils and he quickly covers his mouth.

“Sure you’re okay?” your voice is quiet, testing the waters.

A fingernail catches on a staple by his chin as his hand drags down his face, answering on an exhale, “Fine. Stop asking. Didn’t you say something about tea?”

“Can’t help it,” you huff, shutting the overhead cupboard with too much force. "You’re not a good liar, you know”.

Dabi gives a dismissive wave and heads over to the couch. The distance is barely four strides but he manages to unbuckle his belt, jeans unbuttoned and falling loose around his hips. Kicking them off with little to no grace, your eyes are heavy on his back as he pulls his shirt over his head and throws it at the laundry pile tucked away near your bathroom.

The quaint studio can barely house you, never mind him. Dabi was always small for his age but here it feels like he could stretch and touch every wall.

You’re moving in his periphery, following his lead and gradually revealing swaths of bare skin. You’ve seen him half naked before, in the clinic, but never the reverse. Dabi swallows thickly, ignoring the intimate atmosphere he unintentionally created. The kettle is electric and he takes comfort in the loud gurgling sound that comes with it, fixing his gaze on the blank TV screen.

“You can turn it on, you know. You are allowed,” you coaxed, voice warm and teasing. You’ve rummaged through the pile of clothes and found a hoodie that falls below your hips. “Or are you just going to sit there with your dick out?”

“You fucking wish,” he objected, reaching for the remote. Is it? His eyes fall to his lap. No, it isn’t.

He slouches, reclining into the cushions as some old rerun of Mighty Man plays. “Hey,” idly picking at a loose thread, he asks, “do you get many people come through with hanahaki?”

That gives you pause, and immediately he regrets asking. It’s hardly a common question. Hell, a good percentage of the population thought it to be an old wives tale, even in the wake of quirks. There was no plausible excuse as to why it would be on his mind.

Cautious in your approach, you stop by the couch with a steaming mug cradled in your hands. He sees those naked thighs, soft and uniquely yours. “Is… is that why you’ve been coughing?”

“No,” Dabi scoffs. In one forceful yank he rips the seam open and watches the foam innards spill out. You linger, weight shifting between your feet, and irritation prickles under his skin. “Who the hell do you think I would be chucking up flowers for? Not like I’ve got friends”.

Your shoulders lose tension and he tries not to think too hard about it; he doesn’t want to know. He feels his own airways clear at the sound of your laughter, “I dunno. Stain, maybe?”

Pursing his lips, he sucks back the copper from between his teeth, “Fuck you”. You try to smile. You pass his tea and he forgoes the handle. The warmth of the mug seemed to seep into his bones and ease the ache.

“Right right. Big bad villain. I forgot you’re supposed to be an empty husk without a heart,” you teased, sitting unnecessarily close and burying your feet beneath his thigh, careful not to touch his staples. The hoodie slips and pools around your hips. Dabi’s throat constricts as his body goes rigid. “Ah shit. Are my toes cold? Want me to grab a blanket?”

Forcing himself lax he clicks his tongue and tastes iron, grip tightening on his mug as he brings it to his lips. “Doesn’t matter. I run cold anyway”.

The tea is soothing. Sweet for a ginger tea— brown sugar, maybe. You must’ve boiled it for his sore throat. Molasses swirl on his tongue. They wash down the blood and clean his palette. A smooth, mellowed out aroma fills his senses and overpowers the delicate anise fragrance lingering at the back of his throat.

You concede, tucking your knees under your chin and regarding him with that look again. The one that feels as if you’re reading him like a page in a book. He has never been the type to worry about appearances but when it’s you he can’t help wondering what you think of him.

A cartoonish explosion fills the room with streams of orange and yellow as the episode comes to the halfway point. The light paints your silhouette gold, reflecting in your irises as they retract from the brightness.

Taking another gulp, he winced at the sharp twist in his chest. Two weeks was generous and Tereda knew it. He’s already vomiting full flowers. Corpses make for fertile soil, apparently. He read that somewhere online while he searched for information on morning glories; you are fast growing and frost tender.

A soft note breaks the silence and your toes start to wriggle. “I can hear you thinking. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Despite what you thought, he was a good liar. To those around him but most of all to himself. This is when he should retaliate with a biting comment and keep the equilibrium. He would, if not for the wave of heat that rolls through him at your words, and how obviously you felt it displace the air.

Dabi can lie. His body can not.

“Just that thing you said earlier, about being an empty husk,” he begins, bringing the warm mug to rest against his sternum, incognisant to the ring of heat stinging his skin.

Your expression wanes with regret and he hates it. “I was joking—”

“If you say sorry I’ll burn your couch to a crisp,” he fumes. Vulnerability made him defensive. Angry. It felt like cold air blowing on exposed muscle. “Didn’t ask for a meaningless apology”.

Deep in the cavity of his ribs another bud unfurls. Your patience with him is not endless but it is more than he deserves.

“Then what are you asking?”

Nausea curdled in his stomach. He feels it climb his gullet. “Guess I wondered what you really thought”.

“About…?”

He snarls, hackles raised. “Do I have to spell it out?”

A few beats pass. Your answer comes in a gentle murmur. “Well, our capacity to hate reflects our capacity to love. So, yeah. I do think you’ve got a pretty big heart. It’s just a bit bruised up”.

“Jesus,” he mutters. The worst part is you’re being entirely honest. His knees spread as his hips shift, the after credits begin to roll and reflect off the sutures around his thighs. It reminds him that he is half naked, literally and figuratively. “Forget I said anything. I need a smoke”.

“No smoking,” you bat lightly at his shoulder. “Not until you’re better. If I catch you I’ll kill you before that cough does”.

And isn’t that fucking hilarious.

Pressure prickles behind his eyes that he can never relieve. There’s a florid mass in his thoat; his pulse is thrumming now, singing in his ears. He needs to throw up.

You shout after him as he stumbles over toward your bathroom. He slams the door behind him, hears you curse as his ceramic mug hits the floor and breaks. This isn’t romance, or a fairytale. It isn’t like it is in the movies.

Lifting his fist, he brings it down hard on his sternum. The force barrels him over and he retches. Sour, viscous threads of saliva drip from his mouth into the toilet bowl, but nothing more comes up.

You’re banging at the walls. “Dabi, open up!”

Dabi lurches again, forcing a deep cough and watching a few small heart shaped petals dance in the air as they free fall. Again, collapsing to his knees, he can taste your ginger tea. He vomits a clump of bloomed morning glories, wrinkled and smooshed into a misshapen ball. Blood muddies the water.

Another knock, this one somewhat pitiful. There’s a soft noise that sounds like you’re sliding down the door. “Please don’t make me break this open. My landlord will kill me”.

Trembling. Dabi reaches his fingers into his mouth and feels around the teeth to dislodge what was left. Settling back on his feet, his hand uncurls like a slow sprouting shoot and reveals another morning glory in the shallow of his palm.

Colour streaks across his vision, filled with hazy undulations. White noise drowns out the frantic tone of your voice. Mouth hung open, Dabi inhales until his lungs bloat, and keeps it held until the lights begin to fade.

His consciousness tips from one dream to another. When he wakes up on his back surrounded by soft, freshly washed sheets. A sigh escapes his lips as he turns into the downy pillow beneath his head. It smells like you.

Fingers comb through his hair, pushing the bangs away from his forehead. It’s then that he notices the mattress dipped towards the weight of another.

Dabi squints, prying his eyes open. You’re laid beside him. At first he considers that he’s dreaming, but you feel so real. Your thumb strokes over his cheek in a tender back and forth motion, “You comfy?”

“Better than the couch,” he rasps. There’s an awful taste in his mouth. Intermingling mint and copper. “Did you brush my teeth or something?”

“I rinsed your mouth out,” you admit bashfully. Now that he’s looking he notices your eyes are red. Puffy like you’d been crying. Your smile fractured as you added, “I had to make sure nothing else was stuck”.

Realisation creeps in slowly. It’s gentle with him, like you are, acclimating him to reality. Just like that— you know.

“How’d you get me in here?” he deflects.

You prop yourself up on your elbow and reach to trace the topography of his scarred chest. His breathing stutters and your fingers stop right over his heart.

“Might’ve pulled a muscle or two but it wasn’t so hard. You weigh almost nothing,” you reply. Quiet, as though you were afraid to break the illusion. “Kinda concerning but it seems you have bigger stuff to worry about already, huh?”

Eyes falling closed, he inhales, counting to three. He replies on the end of a long exhale, “Didn't want you to know”.

“Tereda does?”

Dabi nods and the movement knocks his brain loose. He hisses at the throbbing pain. You take him into your palms with a frown, “You hit your head on the way down. You’ll have to come in with me again in the morning”.

“Fuck that,” he groans. You tap at his temple and pout your lips, glaring disapprovingly. “You can’t make me”.

“I can and I will,” his eyes widened at the crack in your voice. Tears gather along your lash line and you sniff harshly, “You could have died, Dabi. And now you might have a head injury. How the hell could you not tell—?!”

“Alright, alright. Shit,” uncharacteristic of him, Dabi let himself have this. His hand cups round your neck and brings you down into his bare chest. He hushes you softly, running his palm down the length of your spine, wrapping you in a clumsy embrace. “Don’t cry about it”.

You settle into the crook of his neck, nose bumping his jaw as you turn to speak, and he suppresses a shudder. “Don’t cry about it,” you repeat mockingly. “You really have no idea, do you?”

“Enlighten me”.

Frustration bursts, and you lift your head to look at him. You’re so close. “I care about you, idiot. I don’t want you dead on my bathroom floor! Sue me!”

Dabi cracks a crooked smile. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me”.

“Who is it?”

And he sours, his stare fixed on the ceiling above. “Does it matter?”

“It matters,” you lean over him until all he can see is you. “…Is it me?”

There’s an echo in his ribs; a phantom knife’s twist. Sure, Dabi is a good liar, he thinks. Touya never was. Touya wore his heart on his sleeve. He was terrible at concealing his hurt. Dabi tries to find the words and comes up short.

The silence is answer enough. Your mouth wobbles and you nestle back into his neck before he can see you cry in earnest. “You are so fucking stupid, Dabi”.

Despite the seriousness he laughs, tucks his nose to your crown and tightens his hold around your waist. He’s only ever imagined what your weight would feel like pressed against him like this. Maybe he’s imagining it, but his lungs are lighter.

“What did Doctor Tereda advise you to do?”

He pouts where you cannot see it. He doesn’t want to think about that quack right now. “She told me either I get the surgery and go to therapy, or I get the symptoms to calm down with therapy on its own”.

“Of course you’d…” you huff. “She didn’t tell you to talk to me?”

“That too,” he shrugs, grinning at the warning press of your teeth to his throat. It’s disturbing how comfortably you both fell into place. A soft kiss replaces your bite, and he holds his breath.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” you tell him, kisses trailing up his jugular to his cheek, unperturbed by the scar tissue and metal in his skin, or the tremors rumbling through his body. “I’m sure there’s no way in hell I can get you to agree to therapy. So instead I’m going to take you out on a few dates and see how your symptoms change”.

Dabi’s mouth opens for air and your lips brush, stealing his breath. “What the fuck?” he says. “Why?”

There’s no point, he wants to tell you. It won’t change a thing.

“Because I want you to believe me,” you murmur, nose knocking his own. Inexplicably drawn to you, Dabi tilts up to align your mouths again, barely a kiss. “If you die it won’t be because of me. And I atleast want you to go out knowing that I love you too”.

The swell in his throat is different this time. He has never been so glad about his inability to cry. Dabi grins, wide and all teeth, pushing the staples in his cheeks up by his eyes. “There’s something really wrong with you, you know that?”

“No kidding,” you laugh. “Guess we make a good pair”.

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

okay weird q incoming but what ways do you think speedsters can get sick? Like to my understanding, they can’t really come down with normal virus’ like the flu, right? But they could get things like chronic migraines?

NANOBOTS!!! This is one of the best pieces of canon lore ever. I did a whole post on it but TLDR: normal human metabolisms have so much shit going on that they don't even notice nanobots in their body BUT speedsters have hyper accelerated metabolisms that are the equivalent of the straight A's overachiever in school on meth. So speedster metabolisms do notice nanobots and they attack full force, triggering all of the body's defenses and responses.

But the nanobots are metal so it obviously doesn't do anything. It just leaves the speedster lethargic, feverish, vomiting, dizzy, with a headache, sore muscles and a runny nose, ect. It's basically an allergic reaction.

Now, poisoning them can work depending on what the poison is/what the dosage is. You would need a 100% fatal poison and you would need a fairly high dose. Because speedsters heal fast and they have a hyper accelerated metabolism, so any poison that is based on toxicity (alcohol poisoning for example) would be out of their system faster than it could even take effect.

But poisons that can't be cleared out/processed by the body (take cyanide for example, it binds with the chemical receptors in your body making it physically impossible to use oxygen) wouldn't really be affected by their metabolism at all. So while the speedsters could heal the damaged tissues from these poisons fairly quickly (making it seem as though they were only slightly affected) they would ultimately need time to do so, time they would not have if it kills them first. This isn't technically what you are asking because there would be no substance that 'makes them sick', there would only be 'fine', 'not fine for like a minute and then fine again' and 'dead'. (... unless they were hooked up to a steady supply of the toxin)

Likewise, (this is getting more into theoretical territory, less canon) there might be some illnesses that would affect them? Not for long but if you got something super fucking fatal like Rabies, it might make them display mild cold symptoms for a day or something.

I don't know though. They have really fucking good immune systems. And even super fatal diseases can be fought. Take my example of Rabies, while it is commonly thought to be 100% fatal once symptoms show up there actually have been cases of people surviving it. Rabies is a very stealthy and fast disease, so the main problem with treating it is that your body's immune system isn't fast enough to stop it. People have survived by being placed in medically induced comas (slowing their bodily functions and thus the disease) for long enough that the medication can eradicate it. So for a speedster? That's gone in a minute tops. You would need an insane disease that I'm not sure even exists.

There's also like... pregnancy and menstruation. Growing pains, muscle pain from running is a BIG ONE, being dehydrated/starvation, blood loss, ect. Lots of ways to fuck with a speedster in a way they can't immediately fix.

There are also speedster specific ailments. It's basically 50/50 if a natural born speedster gets a weird highly fatal aging disease. Sometimes speedsters can be born without a kinetic energy shield which makes using their powers at all incredibly fatal to them. All speedsters will have connectivity issues at some point that can be fatal. Sometimes Time Gets Bad™ (shout out to when Barry kept chronically stealing time from people/things every time he used his powers). Sometimes they have too much energy and can't maintain human form (shout out to when Wally didn't know what the speedforce was and was accidentally cosplaying Ghost Rider). Velocity 9 is a highly addictive drug that works on speedsters and makes them display typical addiction behavior (and withdrawal). V9 can also cause a speedster to 'overdose' (burst into flames/lightning/energy). They all have the constant urge to yeet themselves into the speedforce. Ect.

[m0nost4tic]

someone's gotta hear me out here;

octopath traveler ii apocalyptic au.

it has SO MUCH raw potential, no matter which route you want to take for it.

soooo.... prepare yourself for a ramble on potential ideas. do keep in mind i divided it up by sections only after writing most of it though 💔

-- general concept //

i've mentioned the idea to a handful of friends, and most of them assume i mean an apocalyptic au placed in a more modern setting. that in itself is interesting and a whole other concept to explore, but what i've *really* been thinking of is one set in solistia.

at first, i wanted to use the stereotypical zombie virus. but when i further thought on it, that wouldn't really make sense in ot2's context. i mean, yeah, it could be a situation like castti's - but how would a mutated virus tie back to an overlooming shadow the same way trousseau's poison does?

there were a billion different ways to create or sever that tie. the virus' mutation could have been caused by the darkness, or the virus itself originating from a creature of it, or something else among the lines of that. i couldn't really settle on just one solid idea - until i remembered osvald's final chapter.

osvald's final chapter features people who are "possessed" by this shadow magic. they are unable to speak and appear violent to *some* extent. plus, after you're able to free them from this trance, they seem to be unaware of what had only just taken place.

in addition to this, while playing the game, you have a set chance of encountering a monster who looks *just* like one of the others, save for its darker palette and shadow-themed battle scenery. this also appears in ochette's final. and temenos' final, when that magic mutates kaldena into some sort of monster? AND the darkblood blade causing a similar instance with mugen?? ANDDD the dark akala/mahina for ochette's final???? and not to mention trousseau using "poisonous shadow energy" to cause fatal illness. the perfect set-up for a zombielike concept is literally all RIGHT there

-- hikari //

HOWEVER. using the shadow as a direct cause of it brings up a few questions that need solving. if we go with a "the last of us" sort of concept, where the people who are infected are *alive* but serve as "hosts," then what would that mean for hikari??? there's a bunch of different ways to explore that. would he technically be born infected and, therefore, have partial immunity?? if so, how would his infected state affect not only him but the other travelers as well??? i imagine it functions pretty similarly to the original curse, maybe with a few sickly symptoms?

i think one of the key differences with hikari and other forms of the shadow is sentience. with the people from osvald's ch. 5, they're reduced to just making animalistic sounds in place of speaking. in hikari and temenos' finals, both mutated versions of bosses have a VERY limited speech pattern and seem to entirely lose themself. in ochette's story, it afflicted animals. on the flip side, when it comes to hikari's curse, we have this shadow within that can speak and think for itself. while it is a possibility this sentience is limited because most (if not all) of what it thinks about is violence, it's perfectly capable of interacting with people (...if it ever wanted to without hurting them)

so...maybe it wouldn't act like the other infected whenever hikari loses control of it? but it probably still has a strong lust for blood. PLUS, being that this is set in an apocalyptic setting, being around violence is going to be an incredibly common occurrence. hikari'll have to be dealing with it. a LOT. i feel like at some point the other travelers start to notice that something's up, depending on which representation of the curse you wanna go for. like, if it's just partial infection immunity, hikari could be bitten at some point, start feeling a faint bit sickly, and everyone's grieving and preparing for his loss, and then...it just. doesn't happen. or, if you wanna go for something like the shadow being recognized as something similar to the infected, there could be an instance where hikari is struggling against it, and the infected they were in the middle of fighting charge toward him, set to attack, and— then they just walk around him, as if he didn't exist at all. this would probably act similar to the whole smell disguise thing in the walking dead or like the zombies ignoring the ill in world war z

-- throné //

the shadow's relation to the apocalypse would also raise a few questions for throné. for instance, if this widespread infection is marking the beginning of vide's return and the end of time, what would this mean about throné being a 'vessel?' what about her own blood ties to d'arqest (and the ones she shares with hikari)?

since throné doesn't have 1-to-1 interactions with her dark ancestry (the shadow), i wouldn't go quite as far as hikari's concepts. like, i don't think she'd be immune to them. buuuuut, as she was born as a potential candidate as vide's vessel, i can see her being better at handling the infected. maybe it'd be something like a heightened sense or intuition of their actions. there could be more of an understanding that's beyond just empathy of the tragedy. after all, these things are technically vide's creation, and she's not so far off from being considered one too. i wouldn't go off into fantasy land and say she can talk to them or something, but i can see her predicting some of their behaviors. if they ever try to sneak up on the cast, both because of her assassin/thief history and this trait, she'd be the first to notice them and spring into action-- even before they're actually near the group. it's like a feeling of paranoia except, most of the time, it's true

ochette could perhaps possess a similar ability (though not quite the same) due to the orign of the beastlings, and because of her being basically pure light LMAO. even vide couldn't find a way to corrupt her

another note- i feel like traveler stories relating to vide would be much more rooted in cultism than they were originally. you've probably seen films or shows of post-apocalyptic scenarios. cults spresd FAST. and, speaking of which...

-- the moonshade order //

THESE GUYS. eugh i both love and hate them sm i'm gonna throw them

anyway. so, in this version of what i'm describing, the only main world change is the timeline order. long story short, these guys managed to pull a lot of the big bad strings way back, maybe even before some of the travelers were born (glances at agnea) but i haven't fully arranged it out yet

ALTHOUUUGH, as we know, there are circumstances that were only capable thanks TO the travelers. (ex. kazan using the ku civil war to retrieve the blade). i think this is EXACTLY why vide has yet to fully return. maybe they've managed to get 2 or 3 of the flames out (i'm not completely sure which ones are possible and which ones aren't. i'd have to look back at it later... it's currently 12 am at the time of me writing this, so there's zero way i'm checking atm </3). in this csse scenario, i see this like a weakening on the seal, and hence, allowing for the beginning of the end to start

otherrr than that, post-apocalyptic, i see them functioning as a cult. ..well, they technically already are, but a more influential one. like, let's take kazan, for example. he would definitely use the apocalypse as an opportunity to 'advise' the king and general mugen. ...iiiin other words, basically manipulating them.

!! subsection about ku because i rambled a bit //

since ku's so war-heavy, after the kingdom falls (and, geographically wise, they'd likely be one of the last standing), i envision them having a survivor group ran by the royal family. kazan would use the chaos and conflict to paint himself in to a higher, more influential role in this group. as hikari would be pretty young when the apocalypse began, i can picture kazan becoming his mentor in this au. he'd probably speak to hikari and other people of ku about vide and the end of the 'cruel and ugly world' and such, and, because most people are willing to listen to just about anything in this stats of emergency, they start believing in it, too. maybe not as deeply as kazan, but it might influence them in behaviors or habits, like serving to only worsen ku's war-thirsty nature or people of the group beginning to adapt a more "ah, well, it is what it is. this cruel and ugly world will end soon anyway" mindset

also, on kazan mentoring hikari, this would definitely be another manipulation tactic. enough people of ku know about the curse (and, in mugen's case, about hikari's mixed ancestral bloodline) for it to be expected that kazan is fully aware of it. i wouldn't even be surprised if part of the plan was to use hikari to, at last, fully free vide. orrr, maybe kazan treats hikari as if he's vide's intended vessel? either way, this would cause much deeper rooted psychological problems for hikari. like...ku's violence meter probably went WAAAY up due to the stress and panic of the apocalypse. and then you add in the blackouts associated with the shadow within that he's not fully aware of until adulthood. and also a lot of the similar event sequences to his original storyline.

i just really quickly fetched a few small hypothetical concepts i sent to a friend about post-apoc ku late october;

" hikari's upbringing would therefore likely have a lot more of kazan's involvement in it, as well as all those bad behaviors.

ofc, just like he strays from his family's history of violence in canon, hikari often strays away from the path kazan tries to set up for him. he disagrees with all the violence and a good amount of the questionable behaviors clan ku exhibits

in facctttt

one idea i had for this version of ku, was that they sometimes keep others hostage for bargaining, torturing for information, cult-like related reasons, etc. but this would be pretty rare because ku would fucking murder most of their hostages

there was one scene i imagined would perhaps make a tie between him and another character (most likely partitio due to ku and oresrush's proximities)

in this case, lets say there's been a group near their area that they've been struggling to "sniff out," and they finally happen to find one of the members of that group. if this was as a tie to partitio, then this would likely be one of his friends - nikki, joe, maybe even alrond, etc.

young hikari realizes he's roughly the same age as the hostage and, ofc, feels super fucking bad. and hence sneaks out at night to bandage the captive's wounds and maybe try to free him

during that whole interaction, i imagine him saying something along the lines of "it's okay," offering out his hand to show the bandages and his intent to help, "...i'm not like them."

if/when he frees this person, kazan would definitely have the suspicion it was hikari and eventually find the evidence it was (likely through manipulating hikari to spill), and young hikari would get *a ton* of shit for it

to mimic a lot of things that happens in hikari's story, another thing i did sort of want portrayed was his mother's death;

but i thought it more similarly to a twd character, where his father clings onto a zombified version of her (and this could serve as another reason for the occasional captive and excessive bouts of manslaughter)

until, one day, she's found fckin dead. wound indicates a sword to the head and all. hikari personally felt a sort of peace with the fact, because he saw it as her *finally* being allowed to rest properly. he knew and recognized that the walkers were anything but human, and while they once were, the person they were before was most definitely *gone*. (hence he'd be the type to go out of his way to put an end to walkers that're trapped or hung, because he wants those people to finally feel a sense of peace instead of being trapped in whatever sort of hell that was. if the shadow was to have a big hold on him, it would also contribute to this sympathy because he'd *know* some of the hell they'd gone through)

....however, the rest of clan ku would *not* see it that way and treat it as an assassination. and that's another pointer to hikari that things around him are kinda lowkey fucked up

....and because of the way he viewed it, and him being young and not yet really knowing that view was VERY frowned upon, a lot of the clan ends up thinking he was the one who carried it out. henceee more of the shit hikari receives. the shit w/ jin mei would also be connected 2 this "

!! back to moonshade //

mindt may cause something sort of like that among the church, or be able to spread the word of vide under the disguise OF the proper church of the sacred flame. people are 10x more likely to listen to official clerics instead of some rambling lunatic, right?

okay i'm getting too tired to keep writing tjis it just turned 1 in the morning and i didn' sleep yesterdah. 😭😭. i MIGHT come back and revisit this if anything else comes to mind!!!! most of my thoughts have pertained to hikari and thr ku kingdom, so if this post somehow manages to pique anyone's interest at all, i'm really open to hesring any ideas you might have for any of tje travelers or ot2 chatacters! orrr any input about things i've already thought up. i really wanna find some way to implement ships into this too but i haven't gotten to think on it much. i'm personally a sucker for partikari, castthroné, and knightlight/crimenos. but also just relationships in general, like the close-knit friendship between throné and temenos. .....this is making me realize how much more thinking and planning i have to do 😭

ps i'm newer to tumblr so i'm sorry if the formatting in this is god awful💔. i wanted somewhere to rant about my silly little slow work in progress apoc au in the middle of the might and thought you guys would be best suited lmfao

[valeriefauxnom]

A Dangerous Balance

So I was thinking last night (as one does), when suddenly an idea struck me: the Alberian royal family might have been on a long and slow collision course in their entire 300 year history.

Let me explain.

First, dragonblood, which is essential to maintaining the status quo in the kingdom, even being required for ascension to the throne, isn't a given when producing descendants. This is one of the sources of Yurius' angsts in Dragalia, as he descends from a offshoot branch of the royal family and thus has some dragonblood, but not the kind or enough to be 'functional' and create pacts and shapeshift. It's not a trait that will stick around forever without 'upkeep'.

Since Dragalia Lost more seems to use the idea of the blood 'thinning out' rather than simple genetics 'you inherit it or you don't, but you still can carry the genes for it' (and they do have some understanding of genetics!) when referencing why some people descended from dragonblood can't use it, I'm making the unfortunate guess that in history there's been some cases of Ye Olde Royale Inbreeding to this end.

Royalty in real life did so quite often even without a 'need' to inherit an ability, this just ups that drive to 11, to say nothing of the standard 'keep the lineage pure' reasoning, which interestingly also seems to exist in Dragalia per Emile's line: "That's not true! I am blue-blooded royalty!" For those that don't know, the concept of 'blue-blood' was thought to come from Spain, in which the nobility were proud of not having to intermingle with the Moors, and used their pale, vein-showing skin as proof of their 'pure ancestry'. Even taken in a more gracious potential origin that 'blue-blooded' in Dragalia more originates from not having to work in the sun all day rather than antiquated ideas of race and race-mixing, it still has interesting implications regarding the royal family's norms they are supposed to adhere to, appearance-wise.

But let's put that aside. Now, one of the biggest, well-known results of royal interbreeding is diseases, inherited illnesses that otherwise would be quite rare that instead pop up with disturbing frequency in inbred families. And what can we see but the current iteration of the royal family doesn't exactly seem to be the healthiest. Of Aurelius' 8 natural children, 3 have/had serious conditions, 2 of which had a disease only known to occur in the royal family (wyrmscale).

3/8 doesn't sound big, but that could be huge implications wise. That's 37.5% of the current generation. Even just the 2/8 with wyrmscale is 25% of the family impacted with a fatal disease that's confined to your bloodline. And even if we stretch beyond the canon main world, some of our world-travelers, like Audric, suggest that their family isn't 100% well, either. This might not just be an unlucky iteration of the family:

Beren died, not from being caged or killed, but from whatever black-mana condition that overloads him, and his Euden was healthy... until he hit his later teens.

Beren himself states that he's the only iteration of him to make it to his current age of 21. While some of those deaths can likely be attributed to people killing him out of caution/fear, others due to poor conditions in imprisonment, some of them most likely are due to his condition itself.

This might be a stretch, but Zena's Euden also might have been in a similar situation with Nedrick or Phares.

As we know, Nedrick died from wyrmscale about a month after he was born, but Bahamut brought the baby back to use as a tool. Phares died from wyrmscale as a child about 12, but the Progenitor brought him back to use as a tool. This Euden claims to have been possessed when he, too, was a baby. Was Zena's Euden born sickly/prone to illness, died, and the gods of Dragalia did their standard 'it's free real estate' and revived him to use as a tool? I think the odds are fair, given how well it fits the pattern they seem to love.

This already is a pickle: they need to maintain a strong enough version of dragonblood to continue their kingdom, but 'maintaining' it might already be becoming an increasing detriment to the odds of good health in the family. But there's a third knot in this whole situation: the simultaneous need to dilute their dragonblood, per Alberius.

Alberius' plan when using the Blood Casket relies on the idea that the dragonblood in his lineage will be diluted through the generations until Morsayati is so split into so many different minor bits he can't reform himself or possess them. And, well. 300 years later, and Morsayati seems to have no trouble possessing them.

And there we see the dangerous balance they never will be able to fully right. They have three conflicting needs:

-Maintain functional dragonblood

-Stay healthy enough to continue the royal family

-Dilute their dragonblood so that Morsayati can't return or possess them

Goals 1&3 are inverse to eachother, and 2 rests on which goal they pursue. The 'best' idea I can think of to resolve this pickle is that the royal family needs to bet on trying to find another family with functional dragonblood that's somehow survived since it first emerged (which is doubly hard since many of those who received dragonblood died outright upon getting it), and mix with them. That would allow functional dragonblood, and hopefully would still 'dilute' the 'corrupted' dragonblood that has Morsayati in it. But even that might not help goal 2, potentially even hurt it, if the mere presence or intensity of dragonblood is what ups the risks for diseases or outright causes them like wyrmscale. No matter what, they might never be able to win all three goals.

All I can say to that is ouch, and good luck, Dragalia Alberian royal family. Aside from being royalty and all the privilege that enables, they sure have the short end of the stick, huh?

[nunezs-stuff]

Sister Rosa/Athena

also big thanks to to my friend at cypriathus for the help

She was a child born in the times before modern technology and when the radio was created

Unfortunately she was born into a heavily sheltered and religious cult

Her father unfortunately forced himself onto his wife which resulted in an unwanted birth which made Athena

They named her that after Zeus's daughter since they were told by The Cult that their daughter would be spared from the sins they committed

During her time in the Colt she was often forced into meetings with families in the cold that wanted to possibly marry her off to their sons she declined each and everyone of them

But unfortunately her mother found a boy that she really liked and wanted her daughter to marry no matter what she said she was forced into the marriage at a young age like her father the boy was rather abusive he would grab her hair and try to touch her even though she didn't like to be touched and even if she told her parents she would often be told boys will be boys which pissed her off the one snowy night she ended up running off into the snowy Woods on the night before her wedding while she was

running through the woods while she was running in the woods she ended up being chased down by a wolf that tried to eat her out of starvation it ended up tearing some flesh off of her leg which caused her to scream and push the wolf away before the wolf tried again she managed to get her hands on a big rock and hit it on the head and kill it she ended up passing out from blood loss just to wake up in a pink bed with walls that had roses engraved on it and that was the day she found her true home and father

Personality

She's a no-nosense kind of gal

She strongly dislikes pranks and crude jokes

She worried about the well-being of Father Demaryius

She constantly ensures that her father is mentally well and she's not afraid to drag him by the leg to get him to rest and

She despises Traders and people that blatantly support the deities who betrayed father Demaryius

She can be quite tender compassionate and motherly especially towards the children with the most trauma but she's not afraid to act cruel and ruthless for her family and to get a mission done

Any child that father Demaryius brings home she welcome stem with open arms

She knows the black puppets are the ones who take care of the children since but she wanted to have them grow independency with the teenagers and the 12-year-olds on Homeworld she taught them how to clean cook and rely on themselves even Demaryius instilled that ideology and because of her poor experience with men she make sure that both girls and boys are raised right and respect each and with the older adults like her they also help out around Homeworld she also taught all the children how to plant and grow food

When Rosa was growing up on Homeworld Demaryius changed her name because she was named after the daughter of Zeus and he didn't like that name at all so he changed her name to Rosa both because of her birthmark on her stomach and because the name fit her better and when she was still little

she actually ended up getting a fatal illness that had no cure and so father Demaryius gave her some of his blood which

But it's physical defects and made her skin sickly pale

It made her birthmark that was once pink into a maroon color

It also changed her once red hair to blonde

And her eyes to a yellowish brown color and gave her any more to life and

She doesn't know how old she was when she was brought to Homeworld but she knew she was a child now she is an adult

And she looks around the ages to 20 to 21

When she leaves Homeworld

It's either for Missions or to pick up some supplies

When it isn't for either of those it's just for her personal fun

[scotianostra]

March 18th 1992 saw Pat Clinton become the sixth Scot to hold a world boxing title when he took the WBO flyweight Belt.

In an emotional evening in Glasgow's Kelvin Hall, Pat Clinton, made Dad Billy Clinton's dream come true for 12 months between when Pat outpointed defending WBO champion Isadore Perez from Mexico over 12 torrid rounds.

This famous ring victory prompted Clinton's manager and promoter, Tommy Gilmour, when asked post-fight if he would grant beaten Perez a rematch into the unforgettable reply: "No. The Mexicans didn't grant a rematch at the Alamo!"

Pat was born on April 4th 1964 at Croy, to Billy and Sadie.

Boxing was in his blood, his dad won the Scottish pro flyweight title in Perth in 1940, his uncle Jim fought and won two British A.B.A. boxing titles in 1944 and 1947.

Pat had aspirations to be a jockey but a fatal heart attack, which killed his dad Billy, in 1980, made Pat determined, instead, to realise his late dad's boxing dream of becoming a bona fide world boxing champion. In a 1990s interview Pat he said

"I owe my father Billy Clinton everything regarding boxing. He taught me everything - how to move, how to counterpunch, not to mix matters in the ring unless desperate, how to box for all my openings."

Pat was a member of Croy Miners Amateur Boxing Club. Clinton represented Britain as a Flyweight at the 1984 Olympic Games in Los Angeles, losing only to the eventual silver medallist. Clinton turned professional in 1985 and won his first 11 fights.

In February 1989, Clinton faced Eyüp Can for the vacant European title, losing a unanimous decision. He made successful defences of his British title against Danny Porter and David Afan Jones before getting a second shot at the European title in August 1990; Clinton took a majority decision against Salvatore Fanni in Cagliari to take the vacant European title.

And so to the Kelvin Hall on 18th March 1992, Pat recalls that he had little memory of the build up and entrance to the ring, saying

"When I was walking to the ring there was an incredible atmosphere and it hit me like a sucker punch, I don't remember Ronnie Browne of the Corries singing Flower of Scotland or the fight even starting. In fact, it felt like I was going through the motions to begin with. “ he added "It was only when he landed with a jab that I thought to myself, 'My God this has started, I better get my finger out.'

It wasn't easy that emotion-filled night in the Kelvin Hall. Bringing dreams to fruition never is. After the halfway stage, veteran of 57 bouts Perez forced Pat, who had suffered the old Jackie Paterson curse of weightmaking problems, to fight out of his skin. Helped by a picture of his dad Billy Clinton, which was shown between rounds in his ring corner, Pat battled to a points win after 12 rounds.

It was a world title victory that provoked such emotional scenes of post-fight joy that even today promoter and manager Tommy Gilmour claims that this Clinton world flyweight win is still his most cherished boxing memory.

Still, weight problems continued to dog Pat as they had dogged other Scottish flyweight greats. As a result, Pat looked very unimpressive in beating Englishman Danny Porter in a WBO title defence at Glasgow's SECC Arena on points over 12 rounds in September 1992 - a poor performance stressed by the fact that Clinton had already previously stopped Porter inside five rounds at Watford in a British title defence in October 1989.

Eight months later and Pat, still plagued by weight and hand injury problems, lost his title to South African Jake Matlala, with Pat being stopped in Glasgow inside eight rounds.

An ill-fated comeback at bantamweight eventually petered out but today Pat Clinton can look back with pride on a career that saw him win World, British, European and Scottish flyweight crowns as well as being the first Scot to win a European flyweight title in Italy…as well as fulfilling his father Billy's dream.

In his thirties, as a result of perforated eardrums suffered during his boxing career, Clinton suffered tinnitus and started to lose his hearing, and had to start wearing a hearing aid at the age of 33. He returned to his trade as a joiner before going on to work as a salesman for Scottish Gas.

[sailorrose19]

Obey me headcanon/ AU idea: If Lilith lived

CW: Mentions of death, suicide, suidical thoughts, attempted suicide, blood, self harm, PTSD,

MC and Lilith are not distantly related in this

Well all know what happened during the Great Celestial War and Lilith was fatally shot after Beel had to make a difficult choice to save either his twin or his beloved baby sister well... Lilith survives just barely when the arrow struck giving her a very nasty scar at the base of her wings and they all fell. Lucifer held Lilith in his arms weeping apology after apology for causing the Great Celestial War. Lord Diavolo and Barbatos show up and well know Lucifer swears his alligence and loyalty to Diavolo in exchange to save Lilith's life but instead of reincarnating her to be a human, she is treated for her injuries in a separate room from the brothers due to their severity she sustained in the war. Once she and her brothers were nursed back to health, the Demon King gave them their titles until Lilith was given her title as The Avatar of Despair. Though her physical wounds and injuries healed, her mental and emotional state didn't. When Satan came along after being born out of Lucifer's pure, raw, unfiltered and unadulterated wrath she wasn't sure of how to approach her new brother until when he flew into his rages, her demon powers awakened and managed to stop him when she saw that he was on his knees and tears fell from his eyes. (Think of Steven Universe's Blue Diamond and her powers) This was her Pathokinesis which was discovered can affect anything and anyone within her aura feeling intense sadness and grief.

In Nightbringer if she lived, Lilith doesn't have much control over her Pathokinesis making her brothers cry with her powers whenever she has an emotional breakdown. There are times that she would have terrible nightmares of the Great Celestial War and this was in contribution to her PTSD and CPTSD. She would constantly blame herself for their fall believing fate was cruel to let her live and this made her suicidal leaving her suicide letter in Lucifer's room but her attempts of ending it all were stopped by her brothers mainly the twins. Lucifer had stopped her attempted suicide when she tried to use a knife against her throat. Of course he'd lecture her to never do what she did again which triggered her pathokinesis.

"I get it okay! I'm the black sheep of this family!"

"Lilith, you need to calm down. Your powers are acting up again."

Lucifer understands the severity of her emotional instability and tries to not be so harsh with her in his lectures and assures her that he along with the rest of her brothers don't hate her. Her feelings towards humans is reserved after what happened with her lover and is left in the dark with their fate if they lived or die. Swore she would never fall in love again especially with a human. Hates Valentine's Day but stays for the chocolates and Beel gives her some that were discounted the day after.

In SWD the present timeline: Lilith has better control of her pathokinesis and has a healthier coping mechanism when she has another emotional breakdown. Lucifer revealed to her that he had locked Belphie away for his own protection, because he was openly against the human race and put Diavolo's exchange program in jeopardy and since she was the only one that knew, he forced her to keep silent about it and make tell her other brothers he was sent to the human world as part of the exchange program. When MC came along, Lilith kept her distance from them not wanting history to repeat itself. And in the events of lesson 16 seeing what Belphie had done killing MC her pathokinetic powers are in full flare affecting everyone with her intense sadness.

"Belphie... Stop this you're hurting them!"

"What have you done... WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!!!!!!"

"All I see is a monster in place of the brother I once loved!"

It was almost the same pain she felt when she found out the human she loved was dying of an incurable illness.

When MC is alive again, she promises never to take their presence for granted and both of them weren't ready to forgive Belphie for what he had done and confessed why she kept her distance from them and that she didn't hate them or did anything wrong other than forge pacts with them to free her brother from his prison and to have them be a family again.

"I... I guess I could forge a pact with you. Think of it as my apology for being so distant and aloof towards you."

"MC, why are you crying? I said you can make a pact with me."

"They're not sad tears, they're tears of joy."

I do headcanon that if Lilith lived and became a demon along with her brothers her demon powers would include pathokinesis which is the power to control the emotions of those around you. The House of Lamentation isn't big enough for two emo demons. Yes, I do see Lilith as an emo goth girlfriend.

[whumpycries]

General Kieran #4

part three

cw: stress positions, beating, blood, very slight mouth whump, allusions to suicidal ideation, references to off screen deaths.

Naki wondered whether he would be able to set his shoulders if his current position dislocated them, trying to keep his thoughts as technical and objective as possible. 

If he could somehow hide the fact that they'd even dislocated, then he could just use magic to set them back properly. But Healing tended to be a little… loud. At least in regards to bone related things. 

The general's wound had gotten infected. Not bad, and the herbs given to him should take care of it within the week. But for now… well, the soldiers in charge of Naki were furious. 

Strung up from the ceiling, his toes barely touching the floor, Naki spat up a mouthful of blood. One of his teeth had loosened and would probably break with another hit to the face. 

Maybe he should have just used some magic to bring the fever down. But he really didn't want to use any on the fucking bastard. How fucking dare he get sick like this, despite Naki's (near) best efforts. It was as if he were trying to make the whole thing as unbearable for him as possible. Like Naki wasn't already suffering enough. 

Another blow to the stomach had him coughing some more, and his abdomen ached. 

"You really, really should pull yourself together," Leon said, "If we find out you're purposefully trying to hurt the general, you would wish you were never born." 

Jokes on him, Naki already wishes he'd never been born. He would've been tempted to laugh at him if it weren't for the coughing fit. The coughs just wouldn't fucking stop, stripping his throat raw and making his ribs ache. He was fairly certain they were cracked. 

These men were such fucking morons. Did they know what they were doing? If it weren't for Naki's magic– one they didn't know about, he would be near useless with the kind of beatings they gave him. And where would their general be, then, hm? 

Maybe he should stop all the subtle ways he's been healing himself. Give up. No side can have him if he isn't alive in the first place. 

Except. Except despite everything Naki didn't want to die. Ever since he had been put to work, he would encounter people. Sick people. Injured people. Terminally ill and fatally injured, bad enough even he couldn't heal them, and watch as they clung desperately to life.

How could he just give up when he had a chance to live? It felt disrespectful. Through the pain and terror and sorrow, Naki didn't want to die. He didn't want to die before he could see- experience whatever it was that made people so desperate to live, so desperate to keep their hearts beating regardless of the pain.

But god did desires get muddled when a man with fucking brass knuckles was involved. 

Naki could feel his right eye swelling shut, and saw when Leon pulled his arm back, the brass on his fingers glinting in the torchlight. 

As a burst of pain bloomed over his head, he thought whether or not to heal his concussion when he woke up. A concussion might hinder his ability to heal the general, and that would just result in more pain. 

Maybe he should throw caution to the wind and use magic on the general any way… 

The next hit was unexpected, fast, and completed the darkness already creeping over the edges. 

--

taglist: @whump-blog @annablogsposts @neverthelass @sordayciega @thecyrulik @whereallthewhumpgoes

[khuzena]

Since we’re talking about chamber angst I got one in mind hehehehe….

Chamber and f reader are married and had one kid but their kid died due to an unfortunate accident. Chamber wants a divorce since there’s no point in staying since his child is already dead, but reader finds out chamber is cheating on her long time before their child died.

Idk if this makes sense but it’s been stuck in my head for days. You can choose on what happens to reader :>

His love died a long time ago

Chamber x fem! reader

Tw: angst, hurt no comfort, bad habits, cheating, major character death, they all die at the end, fluff? Nah, schizophrenia, mental illness, su1cide in ending 1, I added a plot twist lol

I'm back from my short hiatus ehehehe, anyways this fic is just chamber being a major red flag, he's a good father but not a good lover

From the day you and chamber met it was like you both clicked together. He was a fine man who's words were laced with a hint of flirting but true love. Chamber brought you to his parents and they were delighted that their son had someone as perfect as you, they planned you and chamber's wedding and were the ones to bless your son when it was born.

Though day by day after the child was born it was as if the relationship was hanging on a thread, he'd always say he had work when it was 5 am and dismiss any dates together unless the child was involved. You thought that maybe his schedule was really packed and he wanted to make use of the spare time to bring your son with you so no one gets left out. As the child turned 6... Chamber stopped trying. It was like he's only doing everything for his son and nothing else for you.

His blood, sweat and tears were for his son and not you. Your parent-in-laws didn't know what was going on but you all weren't stupid, he was losing interest in you. Trying to ignore the signs and you loved and stayed with him for years and in a flash his adoration for you is suddenly gone by a flick of a candle light.

It hurt so much. You would never forget that incident ever. Your husband was out for work and you got a call from someone.

"Hello? Are you the mother of (son name) Fabron?"

The caller asked nervously and their voice was shaky though you replied,

"Yes? What is it?"

"Your son got into a fatal accident, we need you right away"

The wine glass in your hand dropped in an instant and it was everything was falling apart.

You immediately called Vincent and pleaded him to come straight to the hospital and you both arrived at the building, blaring sirens of the ambulance ringing in your ears and when you turned around you saw many other children with severe injuries and you hope to god that your son is safe.

"Fuck, fuck What happened to my fucking son?!" Chamber screamed at the officer with tears in his eyes as he threatened to burst inside the building to hold his only child but the officers blocked him and tried to calm him down. You could only watch this tragedy unfold and your mouth was left agape and couldn't say anything because god it aches every muscle in your body to know horrible shit happened to your baby.

After a few minutes you both entered the hospital room and from the glass window you saw him unconscious with bruises and blood all over his skin, the sight making you almost puke in disgust and when you looked up to chamber's face, so much regret and sadness was plastered on his face; his only joy and happiness on the brink of death and him not being able to prevent it made tears run down his face as you both pathetically sob in the room.

All the top-notch surgeons, nurses and everyone did their best to bring your son back to life but it was useless, he only survived for 2 weeks before passing away from extreme physical trauma from some fire at the school and metal that hit the kid's back continuously.

This is it.

The funeral ensues and all people pay respects for the deceased one, but... Chamber just stared down on the glass coffin with a grim expression, it was then you knew the chamber you once loved died with your son.

"Thank you, y/n." He says with a sulky voice while arranging the flowers infront of the grave.

Choked sobs escaping your lips and tears dampening your black attire, you ask, "For what?"

"For giving me (son name).. but I am afraid my love for you died with my son."

...

"What do you mean by that?..."

He only stares at you with an empty expression and walked away, not saying anything else but only muttered a small, "We'll talk as soon as we get home" it was too quiet but loud enough for you to hear.

When you arrived home, you were terrified about what he's about to say, it was like deep inside you knew damn well what's going to happen next. Your son was the only thing keeping your relationship with him intact and now that he's gone, that glue that held you and chamber together was gone as well. Chamber cleared his throat as he lazily sat down on the couch, some documents lay infront of the coffee table and you had no idea what was to come next, "So.. I was wondering that we should file for divorce."

'why?'

"It's because there's no point with being together anymore, if I'm with you, all I'll remember is (son name) but if I re-married I can start all over again," each word sent shivers down your spine as you stood in shock with tears forming in your eyes, "Besides, the only thing that kept us together was our son, but without him, I don't need to be with you."

"Is this a fucking joke?! Were you already cheating on me with that bitch after I gave birth? You piece of shit I hate you—" you were cut off by him by his simple reply, "Yes, a long time ago I met some young woman, she's quite demure and perfect and your beauty faded when you focused on (son name) more, I lost all attraction for you but I couldn't leave you with the kid still around, I'm very sorry but you should pack your things and leave."

The last line broke every sanity you had left and you fell into madness, you screamed and threw shit everywhere but you calmed down after a while and packed your things while glaring at the man, before you left, all you saw was relief washing over the man as he no longer had to be stuck with you.

"adieu, mon amour" he said under his breath while slowly closing the door as you escort yourself out of the mansion with luggages in your hand.

Both endings will hurt. There is no good ending.

la mort de mon âme- (where reader kills themselves) skip to second ending if you want

After you left the mansion, you had no idea where to go. Your mother-in-law asked you what was going on and you just told her everything that Vincent left you for another girl and you could hear the disappointment in her voice through the line.

"Where are you going to go now?" She asked nervously, she was a good woman. Her posh attitude and lifestyle didn't get in the way of her morals though, she would always support you and was the one who helped you through anything. She offered you a place to stay but you politely declined, your current mental health being too broken to even make correct decisions so you decided to block your in-laws for good.

You had nothing now. You had no one to help you anymore. It was clear you needed mental help but you wasted all your money on drugs and alcohol; getting high in the middle of the night and wondering if things would be better if you had never married that son of a bitch, you tell yourself that you're fine but you still cry at chamber's posts online, with his new fiancee in just 2 weeks of divorcing and the love in his eyes when he looks at her.

The pain is unbearable at this point, no drugs, no wine and no doctor could ever fix you now. So you decided to just step on the stool and hang yourself goodbye but before you do, you text chamber's number in hopes of him reading your last words.

'It has been 5 months without you, I truly still love you Vincent and I wish you all the best.. one last thing before I feel the sweet release of my last breath, did those years of loving me really worth it? I won't see your reply anyways, by the time you've received this I'm gone. Adieu.' your hands shaking as you type the short paragraph and knees buckling since you're supposed to die now, it hurts though.

Meanwhile, before you sent the letter, Vincent was sat on an armchair while filing out new documents for his work.

Getting wed after mourning wasn't a really good idea, there was chill on his spine telling him there's something wrong. He thought it was just the cold air kissing his skin in the office as he continued to sign some paperwork.

Ding.

One message from mon chou ♡.

Chamber internally sighs as he ignores the message, he thought it was just you pleasing him again to come back to you but his instincts told him to just read it and just get it over with.

His nimble fingers swiftly opened the phone and read the contents of the paragraph, the more he read it the more he felt mortified. He thought he stopped loving you.

But the last line crushed his soul entirely.

That night he cried into the silk sheets he once slept with you on, he gripped the pillows you both shared together and poured all his grief out.

And that night, was also the day your son was born and the day the news flashed about some suicide.

Maybe his love did die a long time ago, though his love that was only a speck of dust was still left in his heart.

Ending 2

la vie continue- (where reader is pregnant with chamber's child after the divorce)

After you left the mansion, you had no idea where to go. Your mother-in-law asked you what was going on and you just told her everything that Vincent left you for another girl and you could hear the disappointment in her voice through the line.

Before she could say anything else you hung up and blocked all your in-laws. The stash of money that you got after separating ways with chamber was a lot and you were so out of your mind you decided to just get some wine to drink the pain out.

The wine glass in your hand as you stared out to the horizon, you took a sip and just cried alone on your desk at the apartment you rented, you could go get a job or shit but you doubt anyone would want to hire a hopeless wreck like you.

Though the next morning you were puking so much and you had weird food cravings but you knew damn well what that meant, in a hurry you bought a pregnancy test from a nearby pharmacy store and it turned out positive.

Getting your shit together, you stopped buying crack and alcohol and focused on yourself. Buying a ton shit of baby essentials for the baby and eventually got a job as a chef in your cousin's restaurant so you could save up.

After the baby was born though, someone who knew Vincent and you asked about the divorce and who was the father, you refused to tell the nurse because you knew she was going to snitch and so she did.

Raising with so much love and care did it grow as a wonderful teenager, a respectful and smart one. It was like life gave you another chance but it all went down hill once again. Rumors started spreading about who was the father and it eventually reached chamber's ears about his secret new child he never met before. Though he was a married man now it wouldn't hurt to get in touch with you.

He visited your apartment when no one was around, ah! Small picture frames of you and the child he never knew and a broken frame with only you and your first son. It hurt that there was not even a picture of him on the walls but why would you? He's the one who broke your trust and your heart.

Then he left after a few walking around the house, he made sure when he broke in was that there was no sign of anyone breaking inside so no one could catch him. But as he was leaving the neighborhood, he bumped into some kid.

It looked exactly like you, same bone structure and fashion with the same eyes as him.

"Hello sir? Are you lost?" Your daughter asked him, he seemed like he wasn't familiar with the neighborhood and she wouldn't mind to help a stranger out.

"Oh I'm not mademoiselle, I was wondering if you knew about (reader)?" He tried to keep his calm but his composure was breaking one by one.

"Oh she's my mother, do you need anything?"

"Nothing, I'll take my leave."

'Hmm that was pretty awkward, it was like I met him before— oh well, mom's waiting for me back home..' the kid thought to herself before she went back to the apartment.

Chamber now knew about the secret child, though he didn't know what to do. He was married with a girl named Reine but he quickly realized the girl was infertile. His initial plan was to divorce the girl to go back to you but his reputation took a hit after his first divorce, oh the amount of connections he would lose if he chose that decision.

He came back again to the apartment 2 years later, it was empty this time. The stench of blood reeking in the bedroom and as he went inside, the sight of your dead body with flies flying over you. Bottles of pills spilled on the hardwood floor that he was careful to not step on, maybe he was too late. 2 years was too late.

He awoke from his slumber with tears dried on his cheeks, he forgot.

You and the daughter was already dead 2 years ago; he must've forgot to take his medicine.

This gotta be the cringiest ass fic I've ever wrote, I regret writing ending 2 💀. Thank you for reading and requesting though 😈

[flyonthewallmedstudent]

Listeria

For whatever reason it reminds me of Desperate Housewives and Wisteria lane. Or just Wisteria in general.

It's unfortunately it's anything but wistful or romantic.

This is inspired by the netflix series Poisoned. I hate that title but it's a great watch. I learned a lot from it. I highly recommend it particularly for medical students and residents etc.

So, listeria are gram positive rods (most bacilli are negative) making this relatively easier to remember (purple rods). Also catalase positive. IT's also a facultative anaerobe - so both cultures may be positive (aerobic and anaerobic bottles).

the species that is the culprit for major human pathogens is Listeria monocytogenes.

At increased risk groups (more likely to die of Listeriosis) - the immunocompromised and extremes of life, including the elderly, pregnant women and neonates. Immunocompromised: HIV, anyone on long term highish doses of steroids, leukaemia/oncology patients etc. Worryingly, incubation time is 3-90 days in these groups, so it's difficult to really trace or keep track of. Pregnant women are at 20x higher risk of acquiring the severe form.

Source: CDC

Hence why during pregnancy you're advised not to consume raw salads, fruits, cold cuts, soft cheeses, sprouts and smoked salmon or sushi, no mayo and no raw egg (definitely no raw milk) etc. Similarly, common recommendation is you serve none of these to children under the age of 1. It naturally lives in soil (hence avoidance of raw sprouts) and can live in animals. So it can frequently contaminate food.

Image Source: SA Health

As with COVID (I can't believe I'm using COVID as a measure of things), it can cause mild food borne illness (nausea, vomiting diarrhoea, myalgias, even fevers) to invasive disease causing sepsis and even meningitis or encephalitis. Incubation time is a few days in the mild form.

IMage source:

Death by Listeria when you have the severe form (Listeriosis) is 20%, astonishingly high given you have a 1% chance of dying from Salmonella.

It's a small risk but the issue is that complications and fatality if you do acquire is high. It's also highly preventable, but the challenge is food safety and avoiding certain foods as a consumer.

i.e. in pregnancy, most will have diarrhoeal illness that's mild. But in the subset that get invasive disease and really unwell, there's a 20% risk of miscarriage, risk of premature labour and risk of still birth at 3% in the US. In the states, pregnant women are also 10x more likely to get Listeria infection. That is, illness after exposure.

On the final note of prevention, also always properly refridgerate food to 4 degrees celsius and cook meat to 165 fahrenheit or 73 degrees celsius. As I've learned from the Poisoned documentary, you can ask restaurants to do this, ask them to use an internal thermometer to measure - as rare/medium rare etc have no meaning as it pertains to food safety. If they can't, order something else.

With meningoencephalitis, we just presume that Listeria is a possibility and treat empirically while awaiting investigations.

Investigations: - CSF (lumbar puncture) in event of signs of meningism or encephalitis (classic headache/fever/stiff neck/rash and/or acute confusion or seizure AND fevers) --> expect the classic features of bacterial meningiits and gram stain positive for purple rods - PCR - stool cultures have no value - blood cultures--> look for gram positive rods in the preliminary findings, expect a call from the lab Empirical therapy: - none in asymptomatic or mild disease. just monitoring until symptoms resolve and supportive care (fluids etc.) - Listeria is a notifiable disease to the health department in most Western countries that keep track of outbreaks. - in the US, standard treatment is ampicillin. - in Australia at least, standard therapy is IV benzylpenicillin, 2.4 g 4 hrly in meningitis or encephalitis and everyone is just started on this until bug identification/gram staining and sensitivities return. - in hypersensitivity, bactrim is used. - cephalosporins have no activity against them (or "inherently resistant), hence you can see IV ceftriaxone and benzylpen in the drug regimen for empirical therapy of meningitis - cef covers gram negatives, strep pneumo (most common cause of meningitis) and neisseria meningitidis - duration of therapy in severe disease: 3 weeks, 6 weeks if immunosuppressed

Really great summary here.

Random historical trivia

listeria is named for Dr. Joseph Lister, a British surgeon who introduced sterilisation of equipment and antiseptics to surgery, improve post op care and observed that microbes are the cause of cases of poor wound healing or post op infections. he also began to look at them under the microscope as an early pioneer of bacteriology.

Lister's father by the way, made compound microscopes for a living, so lister became proficient at using this and started publishing articles during medical school

this also led to a lot more research on inflammation and coagulation

weirder trivia: in his med school days, surgeons commonly did not wash hands between patients and some didn't even change gowns, glorifying how busy they where by how many stains were on it by the end of the day

so unsurprisingly his early battles to pioneer antiseptics and aseptic techqniues to prevent the transmission of infection in surgical patients were pretty uphill

Resources CDC guidelines WHO guidelines FDA Statpearls --> great at covering basic physiology and pathology etc. in a short form. Australian therapeutic guidelines - unfortunately not free.. so won't bother to link. If you work at any large-ish Australian hospital you'll have 'free' access. Wikipaedia US list of outbreaks CDC recommendations on foods to avoid vs okay to eat to avoid Listeria

[szyszkasosnowa]

Bookshelf wrapped

A list of books I've read in 2023 for statistical and archival purposes and also because I like to catalog things (and tumblr let me down by not having a year in review this year).

If any of my followers would feel inspired to do a similar thing please tag me, I'd love to see what you've read!

Służące do wszystkiego, Joanna Kuciel-Frydryszak. I love reading the first-hands accounts of history, esp from regular/lower class people. So it's worth to read just for it. There was something lacking for it to be a really good reportage tbh.

Fire and Blood, George R.R. Martin. Really nice if you're an asoiafhead. Can't really recommend to someone who hadn't read asoiaf before. Also I wish GRRM would focus on finishing the saga instead of starting new projects. But can't really blame him for pursuing side stories.

Into Thin Air, Jon Krakauer. Keep thinking about that redditor guy who said this book inspired him to try and prepare to climb Mount Everest in one year. Maybe reddit pisses on poor even more than tumblr.

Dune Messiah, Frank Herbert. I must say that of (5) Dune books I've read so far, this has the higher amount of what I consider Dune's fatal flaws. Mostly unnecessarily convoluted dialogues that end up being borderline incomprehensible. It also underutilizes very interesting characters, like Scytale and Mohiam. I would give extra points for Paul's ending, but then I've read Children of Dune.

The True Deceiver, Tove Jansson. Just fine. Even better if you like winter.

Children of Dune, Frank Herbert. Way better than Messiah, can't hold a candle to the original Dune. I feel like some stuff was retconned in this part, concerning Alia's and the twins' abilities. Esp. Alia's arc could use more foundation set in the previous parts.

God-Emperor of Dune, Frank Herbert. Still not as good as the original Dune, but what a beautiful wild ride. So many cool ideas and characters, including the answer to the question 'would you love me if I were a worm', Idk why the people say it's not adaptable to the screen, I know exactly how I would direct the movie. I wasn't born a nepo baby so you will probably never see this, sadly.

Uncle Vanya, Anton Chekhov. I saw a really good performance before reading the play so it probably influenced my rating. Good read for ugly girls who pull no bitches.

The Last Question, Isaac Asimov. Clever.

Girl, interrupted, Susanna Kaysen. Good read for mentally ill and probably ugly girls.

Other voices, other rooms, Truman Capote. Loved how the climate was painted, and I'd say the way it was written, but I've read the translation. So I liked the translator's way with words I guess.

Dracula, Bram Stoker. Jonathan's diary at the beginning is crazy, scary and overall amazing, but sadly it's the highest point of the novel and the rest doesn't live up to the hype. It's still good and it nice to compare how some motives evolved in the popculture.

Chłopki. Opowieść o naszych babkach, Joanna Kuciel-Frydryszak. Again, I absolutely loved the primary sources used in this book. And it's in fact rare to see some memoirs by the women of the lowest of low classes. But other then the sources, Idk.

Heretics of Dune, Frank Herbert. The issues of Messiah are back. Can we let go of Duncan at last. Honored Matres as a concept are questionable/laughable. I wanted to ask on Dune subreddit if anyone else thinks Teg and Patrin were gay for each other but they removed my ask, so I'm just gonna believe this on my own.

The Crucible, Arthur Miller. Very good. I have some issues with the character of Abigail and how she compares to the historical Abigail though.

Things fall apart, Chinua Achebe. Crazy good. I kept changing my mind on what I like the most about the book as I read it. In the end I think what I liked the most was giving a perspective of the people who didn't fit with the traditional society.

Śniła się sowa, Ewa Ostrowska. Raw, disgusting, unsettling portrayal of a small, closed off countryside society, and its violence. As small, closed off countryside societies are one of my biggest fears, I loved (?? appreciated) this book.

Owoc żywota twego, Ewa Ostrowska. As above, but even more disgusting and unsettling. Dead Dove Do Not Eat, but if you're fully ready for what awaits you, it's a good read.

Heart of Darkness, Joseph Conrad. Actually good.

Kiss of the Spider Woman, Manuel Puig. Very cool idea for the book structure (dialogue-only, two inmates try to pass time, one recounts to the other the movies he had seen). But the story itself isn't bad also.

Dungeon Meshi, Ryouko Kui. Beautiful! Heartwrenching! Heals your depression! Elf twinks! Extremely thought out worldbuilding and a consistent, planned out story. Love to see it.

I don't include the manga I've read that are ongoing (or I hadn't finished them).

[sealrock]

still slowly working on my carrd, it's 60% finished for the most part. I still have my old bio pages up to read, but just know once I'm through they will be taken down as I'll consider them out of date

I added some new lore bits, removed some old bits, revamped the current bits to be more cohesive, and I'm considering some extra bits to add but I'm not 100% on them yet

here's some crumbs in random order under the cut:

I was trying to avoid this, but tauvane drinks dragon blood (courtesy of her brother-in-law zeumont) and fights the dragonsong war on the side of the dragons, thus making her public enemy #1. she has scales that she doesn't show to anyone and goes through a mild transformation that gives her superhuman speed and draconic features

evander is trying to create the philosopher's stone to cure a fatal illness related to his unstable aether, and he'll stop at nothing to obtain forbidden knowledge through rather unethical means. he owns and operates a tiny chemist guild in ul'dah and they always struggle to secure funds and resources as they're in direct competition with the alchemist's guild. he has a team of mammets that monitor his health and a rag-tag group of fledging chemist guildmates who strive to make life-saving medicine more accessible and affordable to the smallfolk in and around eorzea

achille may or may not have abilities related to tauvane's dragon blood addiction. he doesn't crave blood, but it sends him into a spiral thinking that he can turn out like her despite his efforts to save his mother. and instead of limsa lominsa since I'm moving away from the sea pirate angle, achille was born in coerthas in an abandoned cabin and wasn't allowed to go outside for the first 8 years of his life until he met chiron. he was almost executed by the halonic inquisition as a child after they found tauvane's hiding place, as they believed he was a draconic spawn that must be put down

patroclus has trauma-based amnesia that's related to the night his parents died. he was an unlikely witness to what would later be known as a murder mystery, but he can't remember much of it. instead of being killed, the perpetrator left him in the desert in hopes he would perish from exposure as he was still a child when it happened. after almost a week he was miraculously found wandering alone by a traveling merchant; he was weak from hunger, barefoot, and mute from shock. patroclus didn't speak for almost two years after the event. priam only took him in to keep patroclus from revealing the truth of his parents' murder

hector and halmarut have a more personal relationship with one another than anyone had ever realized. think of gaia and mitron but it's not romantic, it's more akin to beyond: two souls, amnesia: the dark descent, and outlast with psychological horror elements mixed in. hector is plagued with horrific visions and moments of dissociation because of halmarut's influence, though he didn't know it then. he only associated this with what he called 'the shadow', a terrifying but strangely protective entity

kirke was a scientist for the garlean military, the body she inhabits was once a conscript soldier from a far away province, she effectively killed off the host to take over the corpse like a parasite. she rose through the ranks quickly once the higher-ups realized that she's a living relic of allag. kirke doesn't care much for garlemald's conquest of the world as long as it doesn't interfere with her work of mixing science with necromancy. she held the rank of 'mal' (praefectus medicorum) and was the head medic of an imperial legion before the fall of garlemald

andromache may or may not be involved with a shadowy organization (NOT the ascians) with the goal of destroying hydaelyn the mothercrystal. this organization saved her life after the 7UC and helped her get back on her feet despite her amnesia. they want to go back to a time when man once had the power to become a living primal without the need to temper others, they share a common goal with the scions in stopping the ascians from completing another rejoining

yves can transform into a giant voidsent canine with multiple heads (aka shadowkeeper). despite his moniker 'the accursed one', the mages of mhach worshipped him and his mother cessair as their savior and destroyer of amdapor. think silent hill with the order and alessa/alessa becoming god. yves' sire is still being figured out he may or may not be related to golbez just based on yves being extremely powerful

paris and their voidsent have a relationship much like light and ryuk from death note. they bicker, they argue, they fight, they joke, but they have a contract with one another: the more paris borrows its power, the higher the voidsent sets the price for paris' aether afterward. in the event that paris is no longer able to control the power, the voidsent is allowed to eat them whole, thus the contract would be fulfilled. it makes the climax of endwalker incredibly dicey because of paris and zenos' deathmatch against one another, paris quite literally almost died out there if it weren't for meteion's timely intervention

azem (helen) is much more of an outsider and firebrand than originally conceived. they never conformed to any of the rules and fought back against society's conservatism and politics, which earned them a lot of enemies and very few friends. their parents, highly esteemed scientists, strived for them to earn a respectable seat in the convocation since the seat of azem in my vision is less respected and more mocked for its reputation of attracting odd seat holders like venat. instead, helen became the new azem, which infuriated their family enough to cut off all contact with them. helen is related to lahabrea, and they despise each other. helen enjoyed hanging out with erich however

[theoarfishexpress]

Near forests in hot, humid regions, one may wake up late at night to the nails-on-a-blackboard shrieks and wails of a Dangleang band. During the day, the crimson, toddler-sized creatures sleep high in the canopy, dangling from the bony hooks that they have instead of hands. After darkness falls, they descend and head towards the nearest settlement, babbling to one another in disturbingly warped voices. Each chooses a target and breaks off, searching for access to its unconscious human victim. Though eyeless, they are extremely sensitive to sound, infrared light, and carbon dioxide from breath, allowing them to silently zero in. A needle-tipped, extendable tongue is painlessly inserted into a large vein. Over the course of twenty minutes or so, two pints of blood are consumed, the Dangleang then silently extracting itself and returning to the canopy with the rest of its band. In the morning, the victim is left only pin-pricked, weak, and dizzy, and the Dangleang they unknowingly fed will not need to hunt again for up to a week.

If caught feeding, Dangleang more often than not panic and attempt an escape, whooping and screeching. Given their nervous demeanor, there are no confirmed cases of a fatal attack, but the fear they inspire is nonetheless well-deserved. As they have no preference for repeat victims, their feeding can transfer blood-borne illnesses between large numbers of people, all while completely immune to the pathogens themselves. Furthermore, while cautious in their feeding, they are curious, and finding the contents of pantries and toy boxes spilled over the floor and scattered in the morning is more than a little unsettling. Fortunately, they have a wide variety of odd behavioral tics that make them easy enough to defend against for those knowledgeable enough. They are irresistibly attracted to the scents of coffee and bamboo, repelled by harshly chemical odors such as alcohol or ammonia, and inexplicably terrified of the sound of certain brass instruments, as well as large hats. Their bizarre behavior extends to each other as well, sometimes foregoing sleep to repeat one, identical sound back and forth between one another from dawn to dusk. They are also known to allow small cuts to be carved into their skin by their bandmates' hooks, for reasons likely even more incomprehensible.

Dangleang are largely human-like in physiology, but have no genitals, and are in fact incapable of reproducing in their natural state. Their population is sustained entirely by the reproduction of their derived morphs, and as such can be extremely variable over time and area despite their long lifespans of up to thirty years. Dangleang germ bodies are produced from the mouth, and take the form of red hooks that typically weave wildly around instead of moving in a straight line as they seek a target.

[yvrsdomain]

Prayers to you from me

“if there is really such a thing called angel of death, then i will pray to god, to let me meet her, and forgive all my sins, and please… let me leave this thing called life that i do not ever want to have.”

a little xiao x reader, ganyu mentions, fem reader, mostly xiao flashbacks, abusive family, self harm, drugs, murder. happy ending for xiao. modern au, doctor Xiao.

idk what im doing idk if this is angst i jsut want to write im bored 😓🧍‍♀️‼️

His life wasnt so perfect nor had been great, he had a few smiles here and there but none of them are genuine. lived a good life and meet some interesting people. Including him, his boss— a literral killer, disguising to be a doctor. Even Xiao doesn't want to know what he had done to the patients.

Everyone have secrets, so does he. he never, and wasn't supposed to find out until he accidentally heard screams from a patient that he once taken care of. his patient was badly ill and everything about her was weak that the everyone had given up curing her and just waiting for her to… not be in pain anymore.

Her screams was so loud, but grew quiet all of a sudden. The usually cold and aloof xiao was even concerned for her wellbeing. As he goes deeper downstairs, he wonders that only he can hear it. Or was it his imagination? I mean it’s night and barely everyone’s here anymore.

“Xiao”

there he is, the sound that he’s afraid of. his own father, his boss, the hospital owner, and a murderer. Xiao never liked his father, calling him a father doesn't even suit him anymore. He was nothing like a father.

Xiao once lived happily, with his mother by his side, and a once loving father. But that once loving father changed drasticly in one night, and blame it on a baby who was just born for his wife's death.

—

he accused her of being born and killed her own mother, abused her. Xiao didnt do anything, he was scared. The first time he tried standing up for his sister Ganyu, he was ”punished” more than his sister. It didn’t hurt as much since Ganyu was still there.

Until she wasnt with them anymore. Barely at the age of 8 his angel like sister died from being starved to hunger, and was severly punched on her little head. Her blood was almost evrywhere in the room that even xiao almost fainted by the sight of it. He stared at his father who was standing behind him with cold eyes.

“why ganyu? why not me?”

His father sighed while walking to the almost worn out couch. “You learn faster than she is. That’s why I punished her more than you. Seems that she just couldn’t keep up with the lessons.”

“Lessons? You taught Ganyu how to…. murder a person. She’s still too young to even learn what being dead means— she doesn’t even know that she has a mother! she doesn’t know anything! nothing. She was supposed to be pure, not being dirtied by the color of blood red. She deserved bet—“

A gun was shot near his neck, fortunately the bullet wasnt on the fatal part of his body. Xiao sobs quietly in pain in front of his father, leaning on the wall behind him barely standing.

“Don’t let that be in your mind. You had no one anyway, just think of ganyu as a distraction that i took care for you. Be grateful” After that, his father just left the house without saying another word and let Xiao be alone.

Xiao screamed so hard that his voice starts to crack up, even from his father’s harsh training to become another murderer like him, even with the cold face of his, he cried. He cried so violently that his figure started shaking, his mind went blank, confused, scared. Scared of being like his father.

—

“You.. called my name Sir?”

His father, boss nods excitingly. ”You haven’t clean up corpses since you were 14 right? You had school I didn’t want to bother you much. Go clean it up now. The body is just behind that door.”

that door he was speaking of was behind Xiao’s father, it doesn’t smell blood atleast. But if you are a person with sharp smelling senses, them you could smell like something isn’t right.

Never be curious, curiousity kills the cat as everyone says, right?

As always Xiao never disobeys his so called father, no matter how many bruises he has, no matter how much blood he wasted everyday. He never shows disobedeince to his father unless it’s regarding ganyu. But since she wasnt here anymore. Everything change…..to the better, at least for his father.

Xiao walks in to the room, he’s not even trembling anymore, he’s not crying, sobbing or vomitting like he used to. Is this really normal? Do i really represent my dad? Xiao always think about this two questions every day.

The second question is his very big fear that no one knows the answer to, except himself to decide.

—

His father got addicted to killing, murder and drugs. While Xiao? He doesn’t know and he never want to know, until he got hurt. He was so ad that he was conufsed to how and who to put his anger to rest. He slamed his fist to the wall, or anything that has a flat surface until his hand starts to bleed, and his plams have scratches from his nails. It hurts, but it felt good.

He tried to mot hurt himself anymore, and stopped for a while but immersed himself with drugs and start to starve himself. His eyebags starts to show, his body is all bones. No one could save him at this point.

—

It’s been years, almost atleast 5 years and Xiao had reached his limit. He was ordered to kill, poision people, and clean up his father’s messes without going crazy. He will always be alone, can never share his burden that’s been weighing on him for his whole lifetime.

Then what choice does he has except to just pray?

“if there is really such a thing called angel of death, then i will pray to god, to let me meet her, and beg her to forgive all my sins, and please… let me leave this thing called life that i do not ever want to have.”

And his prayers were answered.

—

“how unfortunate, he was a good kid that was raised by that sinner.” you mumbled quietly. Being the angle of death that everyone always try to avoid was never easy, everybody hated you except him. His name was Xiao isn’t it? Almost everyday he begged to leave his life, to die, to meet his sister, and mother to share his burdens with. To give and receive warmth again.

“Just this time, I will obey a human. This once.” You look around your throne room for a while, making sure no one will spot you. Flying down to earth as you were sure no one saw you go down to earth willingly. Beacuse it is against the rules, we angels of death only come down to earth whenever a person is assigbed to die that time. We could never kill.

It was a very dark night, that made the stars shine so brightly like small little lanterns flying. You gaze up to the sky looking at it like it was your first time to see such a thing. You never even try to glance up to tbe sky and appericiate its beauty since you're busy everyday. Or yiu're to ginorant to even acknowledge your own surroundings.

You glance to your right shoulder and see a man staring at the same sky with his almost dead eyes and wounded arms with badly covered bandages.

Sensing someone's staring at him, he see a person standing almost beside him wearing a black veil and a very long black gown like she was in mourning.

"Miss? what are you doing walking at night? The path there is dangerous. People die here." Xiao said with a concerned face.

It's barely there, but you know because everytime his father killed someone, you always appear to take their life away and watch Xiao clean up the bodies with his sad and dissapointed expression.

"Then what are you doing here? Do you wish to die?" You said with a calm but stern voice as you carressed his cold cheek. Xiao was stunned but there's something about you that he doesn't want to pull away, he doesn't even know you. Yet you give him your warm hands and carress his cheek to make him feel better.

"You wish to die, yes? I heard your prayers." Xiao was stunned yes, but now he was shocked. He never thought that his prayers were answered. He's a sinner. He's never meant to be acknowledged by pure beings such as yourself.

"Yes" That was enough to bring Xiao into happiness. By feeling your hand on his chest, sucking his life out of him. He layed there on your arms with a small smile on his face.

"Remember me Xiao, I am y/n. Let us meet in the above yes? I will show the people who care for you and you'll be happy. Good bye for now Xiao."

"Good bye and thankyou, y/n..."

He said with his final breath and energy, as he closed his eyes. His figure slowly disappearing from your arms as you kissed him goodbye on his forehead begore he completely dissepear.

"Goodbye Xiao, let's meet again."

Happy, being happy was his first and last time which was now.