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#tw: disease
halfmoth-halfman · 7 months
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fear of the water (i.)
Spider-verse/Subnautica Crossover Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x GN!Spider!Reader Word Count: 3.7k Warnings: animal cruelty, animal injury, it's a water planet and the fish are very sick and wild, disease, illness, blood, body horror, tentacles (kinda) A/N: this is going to be two parts because i got caught up playing subnautica while doing "research" for this LMAO (ii.)
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It starts with a fish.
A single, blue-hued fish no bigger than his fist with a small yellow beak and two massive yellow eyes to match.
One minute he’s talking to Lyla, trying to determine why his watch has been showing him encrypted messages, and the next, the lab is illuminated in orange, and a wet plop echoes across the room.
Miguel stares as the fish slaps against the polished floor. It stares back at him with its large, blinking eye as its pointed tailfin worms against the ground. Thin tube-like organs stretch its body, one from the top of its head and one from the bottom. Three holes run along the side of its small body in place of gills. The water that drips from its slimy, scaleless skin is almost clear and glistens light blue under the lights.
“Should we help it?” Lyla asks, materializing next to the fish to poke at the tube-like organ on the fish’s head.
Miguel looks up, dark eyes searching for the portal that allowed this fish in here. There’s nothing there, no sign of where this fish came from.
“Set up a tank for it,” Miguel says, eyes dropping back down to the struggling fish. Lyla nods, giving the fish one last look before disappearing. Miguel watches it wrestle against the ground for two long seconds before carefully sliding a hand under it and picking it up. It’s cold to the touch but seems to calm as the warmth from his hands sink into its body.
The struggling stops, and, for a moment, Miguel thinks the fish has finally died in his hands.
The fish blinks, the bright yellow of its eye flashing a bright, sickly green as it snaps its head to the right and sinks its beak into the meat of Miguel’s palm.
It’s no more than a light pinch, not even enough to tear his skin, but it startles him enough that he almost drops it. The fish lets go, settling back down into his hands.
“Got a tank!” He turns back to his desk, Lyla beaming at him from where she sits on the edge of a desktop aquarium filled with water. Miguel hums his thanks, dropping the fish into the tank.
It sinks directly to the bottom of the tank, landing on the glass with a dull thud.
It sits there for ten seconds before it blinks, the holes in its body flexing as they filter in water. The fish springs to life, shooting through the water to explore its new environment.
“What’re we gonna name him?” Lyla asks, swirling her hand on the water's surface. The fish follows along, trying to nudge at her hand.
“You pick,” Miguel says non-committally, thumb running across the small, dented bite on his hand. “I need to run some tests.”
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That night, he dreams only of water.
Unable to move, he stands on a beach made of pale sand and trees with bulbous fruit that glows at night. He’s forced to look out over an endless ocean of pitch-black waves crashing over each other as a giant red moon circles the star-littered sky.
Fish leap out of the water in front of him, splashing in the pitch-black depths and staring back at him with big eyes of bioluminescent yellow.
A sense of calmness washes over him, a strange, unfamiliar feeling of peace.
It does not last long.
The sound of hundreds of rocks grinding together echoes behind him, the fish darting back beneath the water and scattering. He can’t turn, limbs refusing his commands, and he’s forced to listen to the low electric hum that buzzes into his bones.
A horn blows once. Twice.
A flock of strange birds fly overhead, desperate to escape it.
He hears the buzz again, like something powering up, before the heat of a titanic explosion blasts against his back. It feels as if his eardrums burst with the blast as the sky rains metal and bodies.
Miguel is forced to watch a spaceship bigger than buildings crash into the water and slowly sink into its inky depth until nothing remains but floating debris, destroyed life pods, and not a survivor in sight.
The waves still, and the water before him bubbles and bubbles and bubbles.
Fish rise to the surface in droves, unmoving and covered in glowing green pustules that pop and bleed into the water.
There’s a wailing from the water, something screaming in fear and desperation and heartbreak. It grows louder and louder until the ground beneath him quakes so violently it sends him face-first into the sickly green water.
He wakes before he hits the ground, limbs unusually stiff with the taste of iron on his tongue as sweat drips from his body.
He heads straight to the lab, not bothering to get dressed, and finds the fish waiting, staring at him with those bright, yellow eyes.
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The fish is alien; that much is clear.
It’s not from any universe known to him, Lyla, or Margo. They poke and prod at the thing, trying not to comment on how it seems to want them to. Tests are run over and over and over.
Everything comes back inconclusive.
Miguel follows this routine for a week. The fish plagues his days while the dreams haunt his nights. With each passing day, he feels worse, limbs growing heavier, brain throbbing against his skull at all hours. The lack of answers frustrates him to oblivion. The mystery of this stupid fish vexes him in ways he wouldn’t have considered.
He doesn’t know what to make of it, his brain and body running ragged by the week’s end.
If he could get the flu, Miguel would’ve thought that’s what he had when he awoke in the middle of the night exactly eight days after the fish landed on his doorstep.
He stumbles from his bed, body screaming in protest as fever burns through him. His vision blurs, a swirl of greens, blues, and purples, and his mind is flooded with images of those deep, dark waters.
The fish. He has to see the fish.
Miguel staggers to his lab, half-dressed and nearly delusional. He thinks he hears Lyla’s voice in the distance, but he doesn’t see her anywhere, mind focused only on getting to the fish.
The door to his lab slides open, and the fish floats in the center of the tank, staring right at him.
Anger and frustration take over as Miguel forces himself to his desk, shoving his hand into the tank to grab onto the unmoving fish. He yanks it from the water, ready to throw it with all of his strength.
“ꜱᴛᴏᴘ.”
His body tenses, eyes darting around the room for the source of the voice.
“ᴡʜᴀᴛ...ꜱᴇᴇᴋ...”
The voice echoes all around him, echoing in and outside of his mind.
“ᴡᴀɴᴛ...ʜᴇʟᴘ.”
It sounds like it’s coming from…
Miguel stares down at the fish in his iron grip. It gazes back unblinking, tinges of green swirling around its massive eyes.
“...ʏᴏᴜ.”
The fish’s skin erupts, dozens of glowing green pustules rising from its slimy flesh and bursting onto Miguel’s. It burns like acid eating away at his skin, and Miguel screams, dropping the fish back into the tank.
His arm twitches and bends involuntarily, the bright green mucus-like liquid sliding up his arm and sinking into his muscles. His legs collapse beneath him as he scrubs furiously at his arm, desperately trying to stop the trail of green climbing up to his shoulders.
The fish shoots around the tank, slamming itself into the glass.
The infection reaches Miguel’s neck. Like ice stabbing into his veins, it drags up his neck and wraps around his vocal cords. The pain keeps sound from escaping as he lets out a silent scream.
The fish crushes its beak against the bottom of the tank. Dim, yellow blood drifts from its beak as it turns and slams its right eye against the glass.
Miguel can feel it climbing up his neck and into his jaw. He tastes it in the back of his throat, bile and iron.
The fish’s eye swells shut, a green blister forming on its eyelid almost instantly, growing and growing until it ruptures.
Miguel feels it pressing against his eyes as if they’re about to burst from his skull. He squeezes his eyes shut, and his vision is flooded with swirls of blue of purple.
Glass shatters in front of him, and Miguel peels his eyes open to find the tank on the floor. The fish lays before him, half-melted into a pile of bright green goo.
A spiral of purple crosses his vision and whirls to form the vague outline of a person.
“ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴜꜱᴛ...ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘ ɴᴏᴡ.”
The voice reverberates inside his head, the person reaches toward him, and the world fades around him.
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He’s on the beach again.
The waters crash around him, sliding up the sand to caress his bare feet.
Miguel stares out over the endless ocean, but something’s different this time. Sunlight reflects off the calm waters, a soft breeze blows against his hair, and small grains of sand drift into his face. He grimaces, turning to roll onto his back.
A palm-like tree with round fruit rests over him, and a bird covered in white feathers edged in black stares down at him.
Is this…another dream?
The bird caws—a sound similar to a gull, but higher pitched—spreading its wings wide to reveal a glowing green undercarriage. The bird takes off; its wings connect the bend to its body as it flaps through the air like a manta ray swims in the ocean.
Miguel pushes himself to sit up, groaning at the ache in his body. His body…
He startles—flashes of the half-melted fish crossing his mind—looking over his skin for any signs of the bright green infection that had spread up his arm.
He looks fine, only a small dent where the fish had bitten him. He leans back in the sand, taking in his surroundings.
The sand is almost soft beneath him, the breeze carrying the faintest scent of salt. If he closed his eyes, he could picture himself on a regular beach back home.
Something squeaks beside him, and Miguel nearly jumps when he opens his eyes to find a flat, blue eyeball on four pointed limbs skittering toward him. Instincts take over as the creature leaps, small mandibles aiming for him, and he lands a solid punch to its front left leg. The creature shrieks when it lands, skittering away with a noticeable limp.
Not a dream, then.
Miguel watches the creature run up the beach, heading toward the mountain in the center of the island he’s on, where it disappears into a cave twice as tall as him.
The cave could be a good shelter if more of those things aren’t inside.
He’ll need to find something for food and a way to make a fire.
“Lyla,” he calls, but no one answers. It dawns on him that he’s actually stuck here, on this strange island, in only a pair of sweatpants and a shirt.
To the right, the beach ends at a large formation of rocks, and to the left, it disappears into a steep drop-off into the ocean.
The only way he can go is forward, so that’s what he does.
The cave leads deep into the mountain. Thankfully there are plenty of holes in the mountainside to let light in and allow him to see. He finds more of those cave crawlers, but they give him a wide berth after he kicks the first two into the cave walls.
He doesn’t know where he’s going or what he’s meant to be looking for until he trips over it.
It’s warm but hard enough to nearly break his foot when he stumbles on it: a black cable inscribed with symbols that ebb with glowing green symbols. Half of it is buried in the rocky ground, but it’s wide enough that he’d have a hard time fitting his arms around it.
The cable runs along the mountain floor, trailing up a small hill and leading back outside. Miguel follows it, focusing more on the symbols than what lies ahead.
Momentarily blinded by the sunlight, he shields his eyes, waiting for them to adjust.
When the spots in his vision finally clear, his jaw nearly drops at the sight before him.
The ocean stretches out before him, never-ending and glittering black. On the right, the burnt-out carcass of a massive spaceship sits above the surface, still smoldering as the waves lap at its exterior. On the left, the cable runs to a large cubic tower made of the same material, an arch at its base glowing with a green so bright it’s hard to look at.
Miguel’s vision swims with blue and purple before that same silhouette takes form again.
“ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ,” the voice in his head speaks, something in his chest pulling him toward the tower.
“Who are you?” he asks, swatting at the silhouette. His hand passes through, and the figure disperses into the air. Miguel scoffs. Of course, they’d disappear instead of giving him answers.
Left with no other choice, he carefully follows the mountain path down to where a metal bridge leads from the beach to the tower. With the same strange symbols carved into the bridge, Miguel cautiously sets one foot on its surface.
It hums to life, the symbols glowing green beneath his foot. It’s oddly warm, much like the sun-warmed sands of the beach. Nothing else happens, though, and it’s enough for him to decide it’s safe to cross.
The bridge hums as he makes his way across. The arch swirls with green semi-transparent energy, and something on the other side calls to him.
Miguel reaches a hand forward, a brief moment of hesitance before he commits and steps through.
The world around him twists and distorts, a distant wailing vibrating across his ears. His limbs grow too heavy, his mind slipping into a limbo of pain and peace.
There’s a moment where Miguel thinks this may be the end.
But as soon as it comes, it stops, and Miguel is left standing in a pitch-black room on the edge of a glowing blue pool.
He steps back, and the entire room pulses with glowing green symbols before fading into darkness. He looks to the pool, a sudden tightness in his chest followed by the absolute yearning to jump in.
“—ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ,” the voice calls, and he doesn’t know if the echo in the room is in his head.
He listens to its beckoning, one deep breath before diving into the luminous water.
A mistake, he soon realizes.
His muscles tense as soon as he hits the water, locking in place as he slowly sinks down to a platform suspended by chains. He’s in some kind of large chamber, one that looks similar to a well-decorated aquarium. He catches glimpses of schools of fish swimming below the platform as he sinks to it, along with various colorful and glowing flora.
He lands on the platform feet first, something keeping him standing as he struggles against its invisible hold.
He needs to get out. He needs to swim to the surface.
Miguel’s lungs constrict painfully.
He needs air.
A deep groan echoes across the chamber, and Miguel feels the water shift around him, nearly pulling him off his feet.
He’s not alone here.
Something else is in this chamber with him.
Something big.
A dark, spindly limb slithers onto the platform and up the chain to his right. It’s halfway up the chain when a second limb begins curling around the chain to his left. Two more move up onto the platform and anchor themselves on either side of him. Far too big to wrap around his arms, they settle atop his shoulders to keep him anchored in one spot.
Brilliant purple lights flash down the dark skin of these limbs, beautiful swirling patterns that almost distract from the way Miguel’s lungs scream at him.
Skin swirling with flashing purple lights, a creature rises onto the platform before him.
You look human-ish, standing on two legs with two arms and hands clasped in front of you. You’re wearing a black suit that clings to your body and covers every inch of your skin except your hands and feet. What Miguel can see of your skin glows with purple veins that match the blinking patterns of the limbs on his shoulders. He notices they connect to your back, as do the two wrapped around the chains, keeping you hovering just above the platform.
You stare at him, blinking with all four of your glowing purple eyes, head tilted almost curiously.
You glide forward, and Miguel takes note of the other four limbs stretching from your back and draping over the platform's edge. One of them wiggles, twitching slightly before he feels a sharp pinch to the back of his neck.
He inhales, lungs burning as they fill with water. His body feels as if it’s on fire, nerves vibrating as his fingers and toes begin to turn purple.
You blink, at the pain disappears. Limbs loose and back in his control, Miguel chokes and lifts a hand to his neck. He inhales again, and the burn is slight as his lungs adjust and his body changes.
You give him a moment to adjust, watching the realization dawn on him as he inhales and exhales again with ease.
When he finally meets your gaze, your eyes widen, purple lights dancing across your long limbs.
“You are not what I expected,” your voice echoes in his head, clear as day.
“Who are you?” he asks in his mind, harsher than he means to, but not used to the sudden mental connection.
“I am what you seek,” you answer.
“What?” he scoffs.
“Many have tried, and all have failed,” you continue. Miguel narrows his eyes. Your voice sounds…strained like you’re purposely pitching it lower.
“Are you gonna start making sense or—”
“Others came here once,” you muse, looking at the chambers around you solemnly.
“Did you kidnap them too?”
“They built—what?” You stutter, voice losing its low pitch as you turn to him in surprise. “Kidnap? I didn’t kidnap you.”
“No? What would you call it?” Miguel rolls his eyes, frowning down at one of the arms on his shoulder. He shrugs it off, and it slithers to your side.
“No? You came here,” you say, confusion laced in your voice.
“After you left me stranded on the beach,” he scoffs.
“That’s not—” The other limb slides from his shoulder as you glide away from him, picking at the purple veins in your palms. Your brows knit together, eyes focused on the ground. You drift back and forth as if pacing, your voice soft like your words are only meant for you to hear, “You called to me. That’s how I found you, because of the connection, the infect—.”
You stop, turning swiftly to him.
“Where did you come from?”
Miguel takes a step back as you rush forward.
“Shouldn’t you know? You brought me here after your fish melted,” he frowns.
“My fish?” One of your extra limbs reaches up to rub at the side of your temple. He lets you think, watching your face intently. You pick at your palms, wincing when you break skin. The lights on your body flash green before returning to their normal purple, and you both look down to watch yellow blood drift up from your palm. Your eyes widen, slowly lifting to meet his gaze with a worry that sets him on edge.
“How long ago were you infected?” Your voice is soft, almost pitying, and somehow that makes him angrier.
“Infected?” Miguel asks, making no attempt to hide his irritation. You turn your palm upwards, slowly holding it out to him. He can see that small cut in your skin, or rather, the neon green blister that’s taken its place.
“The others brought it here,” you murmur. “They came looking for a cure, but…it didn’t work. They…did something—something unforgivable—and in the following conflict, the virus got out. Everything from here to beyond the Crater was ravaged.”
He doesn’t understand most of what you’re saying, but there’s a sense of loss in your voice that he finds a small part of himself empathizing with.
“I’ve been trying to fix it,” you murmur, looking at him wide-eyed. “But the virus limits my reach to those who carry it.”
You catch the tensing of his jaw and the quick glance down at his hand. You reach for him, slowly and carefully, like one would approach a wild animal. You grab his hand with your unmarked one, lifting it so you can examine his palm.
It’s small, but there’s no mistaking the green edges of the dent in his palm, glowing brighter beneath the water.
“How long ago was this?” you ask, thumb gently grazing the green mark.
“A week,” Miguel answers tightly, pulling his hand out of your grasp.
Your glowing gaze meets his dark one, “Then you don’t have much time left.” You turn your back to him, revealing the bare expanse of your back and the masses of green veins and blisters that gather around where your extra limbs attach. You head toward the edge of the platform. “Come. It’ll be easier to explain…not here.”
He doesn’t move, crossing his arms over his chest. “You can’t take me back home and explain there?”
You stop just at the platform's edge, extra limbs unwinding themselves from the chains as you look at him over your shoulder.
“No one can leave until a cure is found,” you speak, calm and distant. “I cannot change what they’ve put into place. You either follow me or die here. Your choice.”
Miguel lets your words sink in, eyes falling to the bite on his hand. He looks back up at you with a reluctant sigh and gives you a single nod.
You nod, turning back and diving off the edge of the platform, disappearing into the chamber below.
Miguel steps up to the edge, peering into the darkness below to see your bioluminescent limbs carrying you along the chamber floor like a glowing spider. He takes a deep breath, letting the water filter through his lungs, before stepping off the platform.
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batwynn · 8 months
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Stressful, horrible two days of driving, $600+ in hotel/gas/etc., frequent exposure to Covid because no one is masked anywhere, all for a ten minute appointment so my dermatologist and insurance will still prescribe the seven thousand dollar medication to suppress my immune system so my autoimmune disease doesn’t rot all of my skin off. Oh, and that same dermatologist won’t sign a paper saying I’m disabled because he thinks living with constant infections, being a huge risk of dying of Covid, and still getting gaping wounds all over my body isn’t debilitating enough.
The American health care system works! 👍
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k, hear me out! You know how Dottore has (h̶a̶d̶) segments/clones of himself at various points in his life??
Let's say the reader is a segment of him when he was a kid.. and is used to spy on the traveler (though I guess the traveler doesn't know its a clone💀)
This was a tough one, I'm not gonna lie. I've redone it a couple of times, and I'm still not sure if I like it. But the idea is great, don't get me wrong. It was just hard to fit it in a relatively short format. Lumine is the traveler here, because flip-a-coin said so.
Genre: Angst/Whump
Characters: Lumine, Dottore
TW: Graphic descriptions of disease and body decay.
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You were born exactly fifteen years ago.
Well, born is the wrong term here. You were separated from Dottore's body, and contorted into an exact copy of him. You looked the same, talked the same, knew the same, walked the same.
Yet your mind was a separate one. Nobody knows if that was an oversight from the other you, or if it was intended. That meant you didn't share the same personality or values. Dottore, young as he was back then, wasn't the best person to argue with about worldview. A few careless words could mean being on the wrong side of the observation room.
So you swallowed all of your worries and pretended to be him. You worked together, but you got the short end of the stick most of the time. While Dottore would engage in actually interesting experiments and activities, you were his 'gofer'. The amount of trips to the kitchen, public institutions and libraries were far too many to count. It was a dull, but not a bad way to live.
Over the years, something became painfully obvious, though.
Dottore made a mistake. A grievous mistake. Not lethal for him, of course. But for you.
You aged. Faster than him, in fact. Something went wrong during the soul fragmentation process, which caused rapid growth of your body. When he became one of the Harbingers at a fairly young age, you were already taller than him. Your physical appearance didn't go along with the development, so despite measuring a whole two meters in height, you still had his teen features. That proved to be an interesting development in your other self's eyes. It meant that people couldn't recognize you as another version of him.
That opened a whole new world of possibilities, namely espionage. Suddenly, from carrying around books or coffee, you became a field agent for the Fatui. With Dottore's skills and a whole new identity, you could easily infiltrate any enemy organization and strike from behind. Luckily for you, Dottore's ego extended to his other versions, meaning that all of the dirty work was left up to the skirmishers to carry out.
Still, it was hard to live like this. Constantly gaining people's trust, meddling with their affairs and vanishing without a trace, only to do it again. You took many names and lived under many covers, never able to settle down and have some well-deserved rest. You were happy, however. Happy that Dottore had a use for you, that he saw value in your existence.
You were so stupid to think that would last.
When Dottore learned how to change the appearance of his other clones, your skills became... obsolete. What's more - you were now a threat. Unlike the other segments, you had a separate, free mind to you, and since you knew far too much about the Fatui's inner workings, you were dangerous.
Yet the other you felt a certain... nostalgia towards you. You were the first of his masterpieces, possibly the greatest of them all. So Dottore wanted to use you for all of your worth.
As soon as a certain short, blond haired girl and her flying companion made themselves known by foiling Childe's plan, it was obvious someone had to keep tabs on her all the time. Someone expandable, but loyal.
And so, you became her shadow.
You slowly learnt her routine, her connections, friends, beliefs and skills. Even though Lumine wasn't really aware of your existence, you knew more about her than even Paimon. Despite your hard attempts at remaining hidden, a slip up occurred some day, and you came face to face with her. Smooth talking and quick thinking were both in your job description, so you managed to save face. Lumine was still very young, and gullible enough to believe you were just passing by, despite having seen you around multiple times already. Seeing a prime opportunity in this new development, you asked her to join on her travels. And she agreed.
For some time, it felt like an entirely different world. A world without the need to torture, betray, steal and lie. You helped her with her issues, using your skill and knowledge to aid her quest of finding her brother. And you used it in the name of good. You two helped almost everyone you came across. Whether it was saving an abducted family member, recovering stolen goods or just helping someone prepare a gift, sweet Lumine never refused anyone, no matter how trivial or mundane the work was. As a derivative of a psychopath, you didn't get it at first, especially that you knew what she was capable of. Why in the world would she go around saving kittens or entertaining one of the Harbinger's siblings when she could overcome gods? But the answer made itself more and more clear with every smile you helped her put on someone's face.
She did it because... because it felt good.
It felt good to do good things.
Good to build, not destroy.
Your fondness for the traveler was getting more and more obvious with each report sent to your creator. When you stated in one of Lumine's wound descriptions that "luckily for us, she made a full recovery", it was clear that your loyalty was not as crystal clear as before. That angered Primo Dottore. How could he create something so traitorous?
When the order to cut her throat when she slept, you refused for the first time. So the next time you met eye to eye, The good Doctor presented you with a small syringe. He told you it was your usual anti-aging solution, and you took it without question, as always.
The effects of that substance he gave you weren't immediately obvious.
It started slow, with cracking skin, joint aches and stomach pains. Over time, you found more and more of your hair on your brush. A month passed, and you started coughing. The wounds, no matter how small or insignificant, didn't heal up properly anymore. Gradual muscular dystrophy lowered your combat abilities, forcing Lumine to protect you from danger. Fever kicked in as the many wounds became infected. Wiping puss from them soon became too bothersome, as it returned moments later, its supply seemingly endless. By the end of the second month, your skin was shriveled and pale.
Your cells started falling off along all of your tracts, leading to bloody secretions. Lumine, already disheartened by your state, was on the verge of tears when you stained the sink crimson for the first time. She seeked help from everyone she knew - Kokomi, Zhongli, Barbara, Ei, Miko, Baizhu... None of them could help keep her best friend from falling apart before her eyes. They could only provide temporary relief, drag out the inevitable.
Weeks passed, and you were reduced to a bandaged up, incomplete skeleton. Your left arm fell off when you hit it on the door, and your right knee collapsed, unable to hold you upright. Everything hurts. You couldn't drink, eat or sleep. Despite all of the abuse, your body refused to give up, refused to finally keel over and die. You still had something to do.
With the last ounces of your strength, you revealed Lumine the truth. The truth about your name, your origin, your work. You confessed to as many horrible deeds you committed as you could recall, hoping to drive her away. To make her despise you. To make her not care. Not cry every night.
She didn't leave your side until the end. Why? Because she knew you. You didn't want to murder, to lie, to rob and betray. You never asked for this life. It was forced upon you by a Harbinger with the  ambition to rule over life and death.
Lumine's mind was filled with fond memories of you. Your laughter still resonated in her mind, but she just couldn't get herself to recall your face. Because every time she thought of it, only the noseless, toothless and wide-eyed cadaver would greet her. She couldn't force the image of someone she cared for, liked, loved so much reduced to this.
She came to her senses only months after your funeral, and took up her quest again. This time, alone, and with a far different attitude.
She spared Childe. She spared Scaramouche.
But whoever faced her in Fontaine would not be so lucky.
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Thanks for reading!
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writerbeemedina · 6 months
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Okay, so here's my take on the zombie myth. Cursed corpses with an appetite for human flesh? No, no.
You may be familiar with chronic wasting disease that affects deer -- commonly known as zombie deer disease. It's an illness that eats away at the brain, and it's 100% fatal. It causes the body to slowly shut down, symptoms manifesting as:
Loss of motor control
Confusion
Excessive salivation
Excessive urination
Extreme weight loss
So far, there have been no cases reported in humans, but WHAT IF the disease mutates to the point? There is no known cure, and the dead still have the potential to carry the infection, and one thing after another, eventually leading to a full-blown "apocalypse." And the real tragedy of these "zombies" is how the infected lose their entire sense of self and humanity.
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harveyb-wabbit92 · 2 years
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{Ingo and Y/n are talking and walk around Obsidian fields, this is after Ingo rage quit at the Wallflower.]
Y/n: Ingo, I know everything seems hopeless right now, but I promise you, there's so much to live for.
Ingo: Really? Is there? What is there to live for on the frontier in 1868? Huh? Look, let me tell you something. We are in a terrible place and time. The Hisuian frontier is a disgusting, awful, dirty, dangerous place. Look around you. Everything out here that's not you wants to kill you. Bandits, angry drunk people, hungry Pokémon, diseases, major and minor injuries, the weather. You can get killed just going to the bathroom. I take my life in my hands every time I walk out to my outhouse. There's fucking Paras’s all in the grass out there. And even if I make it, you know what can kill me? Cholera. You know cholera?
Y/n: [fearfully] The Black Shit.
Ingo: The Black Shit. The latest offering in the frontier's disease-of-the-month club. And even if you survive all those things, you know what else can kill you? The fucking doctor. The doctor can kill you. I had a cold a couple of weeks ago. I went in there. You know what he said to me? He goes, "Oh, you need an ear nail." They tried to put a nail in my fucking ear! That is modern medicine for you. "Yeah, Doc, I have a fever of 102." "Oh, you need a Ponyta kickin'...And Shit!” Ingo pulls Y/n into the tall grass as an alpha Luxray comes stalking by.
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Status Update:
TW: mention of Intestinal Parasites
Y'know, I think people don't think long or hard enough about what it means for an animal to "Have Worms" :)
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sapphireregency · 5 months
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“I read in an old tome that the key to conquering the sickness of the corruptor lies in a remedy only made by seven ingredients from the Tirtra Cluster.”
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“What’s the corruptor?”
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“We aren’t sure. The faith I commit myself to says it’s an evil god. It makes our vices grow.”
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“But I don’t think I’ve ever done anything wrong. I only help people. I’m a healer.”
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“And yet your touch is now dangerous.”
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“I don’t understand…”
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“But I’ll go to Tirtra. I can bring this cure to other people.”
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never-took-a-lesson · 5 months
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I may have mentioned this before. This blog is two years old or so and I don't remember everything I've ever posted. But, headcanon time.
Forte suffers from mild memory problems. Had he been allowed to age past fifty years, these would have grown fairly rapidly, and he would have had Alzheimer's fairly early into his elderly years. Since his ageing stopped when he was turned, his memory problems did stop progressing. However, he still occasionally struggles to recall things. You may have noticed how he sometimes stops and stutters for a moment in his speech, or suddenly loses track of what he's talking about.
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hazard100 · 6 months
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Alice’s Note: I have had plenty of time to get acquainted with the Disciples of Hysteria, and let me tell you, they don’t make my job any easier… They are usually attracted to recent murders or other intense crimes and muck up witness reports. As such, Tempus and I have to deal with them as quickly as possible before they cause an innocent man or woman to be arrested instead of the true culprit. This task is easier said than done as they can be stubborn and usually say their goddess guided them to this spot to spread her ‘name.’
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espithewarlock · 7 months
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youtube
If you have 10 minutes to spare, please consider giving this video a watch.
Disease, Healthcare, Death TWs under the cut.
Tuberculosis is one of the deadliest diseases of the last 200 years and an estimated 1.6 million people will die to it this year. TB is not an old disease. It is very much around and impacting millions of lives, primarily in places with limited access to healthcare.
It is also curable IF it is caught and diagnosed in time and the correct treatment is applied.
The company that makes the diagnostic test, Danaher, is currently charging $10-15 for a product that costs them somewhere around $4 to produce.
The Vlogbrothers & nerdfighteria are trying to signal boost to pressure them into lowering their price to $5 to be more affordable and accessible.
Profit should not matter over human lives.
Their current profit margin is over 200% (potentially 500%) and a $5 price would bring that profit from excessive to reasonable. On top of that, a significant amount of U.S. taxpayer money went to them to develop these tests and they're making a profit (globally!) off of those taxpayer dollars.
If you have given this your attention so far, thank you, thank you, thank you. Awareness and views on the video help more than you know.
If you feel like doing more, spread the word. Reblog, share the video to your other social media sites, call or email the company if you're so inclined. The video description on YouTube has suggestions for how you can help.
Building something is only valuable if the people who need it most can access it.
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necromatador · 7 months
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Today has been A Bad Day.
Everyone in the household has COVID except for me (for now).
I'm going to have to take time off from work because I cannot meaningfully quarantine due to the way the house is set up.
My parents had to put the family dog down this last Friday due to age-related acute kidney disease, and they told me about it like an hour and a half ago.
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werspinna · 9 months
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Health Edition : Wolfgund Waidmanns Repost and BOLD all that apply to your Muse feel free to add more 
Tagged By: Walter von der Vogelweide Tagging: @alchemaxed @spinxeret @iobartach @goblinfire @wovendeath​  @sickthem​ @voltedblood @carnivorousfatality @the-rogue-dragon @h-osborn @hyenashub @books-and-right-hooks @kylo-wrecked !  
gets colds easily - has a chronic condition - has had major surgery - has had minor surgery -suffers from spring allergies - has broken a bone - has a sensitive stomach - gets headaches easily - has anxiety - has depression - is prone to panic attacks - bruises easily - has had a major health scare - has lost a loved one to health issues - pushes themselves when sick - is a poor patient - is a good patient - ignores signs of poor health in themselves - is a hypochondriac - has undiagnosed health issues - isn’t bothered by medical settings - hates medical settings
Gets headaches easily- Wolf is prone to migraines due to her mutation and the addition of six more eyes in her skull has changed her skulls shape drastically which leads to her having headache-attacks. The high stress of her work as Spiderman and her sensetivity to light due to her new eyes abilities makes her even more prone to develop migraines, so she uses Pennyroyal cooked in hot water to sooth the pain. 
Bruises easily - Due to her mutated inhuman healing factor (beeing able to heal a broken bone in a little over an hour) Wolf heals as fast as she is bruised up, but she is still a human with normal skin and will look not especially healthy after she had been thrown through walls like a bouncing ball. She is also  someone whos skin (in her face and on hands, feet, lymphatic glands areas) is very damaged by the poxscars because scars are not as durable as normal skin. Also she had had suffered from larger areas frostbites before when crossing the alps, so her skin is obviously very senstive to coldness. Her habit of scratching the scars on her cheeks or sucking on the scars in the let corner of her mouth is not helping in making the areas less painfully sensetive.
Has lost a loved one to health issues- Hasna was killed by the Lizard. It however does not change the fact that Hasnas Leprosy would have killed her maybe in a year, maybe in two years, that was not sure, but it would have happened and there was no escape for her. Obviously for Wolf who had served Hasna  for years as a assistant as Hasnas capabilities dwindled, had taken over a certaine fear of again beeing forced into the position of watching someone wither away while she can not do anything. The fact that she accepted being spiderman obviously was a result of that fear because she wants to be able to help people and with that work against that feeling of helplessness. 
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hypn0tw1st · 1 year
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Did some creative art, not going to lie, it's terrible. But it's based off of the book "Hell Followed with us" and dark magic from "The dragon prince" with my Mary sue oc ironically named Seraph (tw: disease, emetophobia, rot, death)
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shivaandcie · 2 years
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Well.... It took me far too much time to finish writing that but I think I needed that time.
Shiva is back home, I set up a space just for him on my shrine 💚
I didn't really explained what happened to him cause it was so fast. I never thought I'll lose him so soon.
He had not been doing well for a few weeks but he was still eating and his weight was staying kind of the same, around 3,5kg which was not enough but not worse than it has been this last year.
At the vet he had a blood check up and everything was wrong. He had a really low sugar level and he had not enough red and white blood cells which meant the production was not happening anymore. There was also a high possibility of kidney failure even though the data looked normal (the day after the kidney failure was confirmed, his kidney had stopped working Completely). So we decided to let him at the vet for the night. The main problem at that point was his blood sugar level.
The night passed. Call of the vet in early afternoon. She told me the blood sugar level was still bad but he was eating which was a good thing, and he would be better with me than at the vet. so, we decided I'd pick him up around 6pm. At 4pm, she called me again to say it was over, he was leaving.
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redlineoffate · 1 year
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@kitxkatrp​ [x]
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It's something incurable. And soo-won knows this. Probably someone else knows besides him. Min-Soo, Ju-Dou... Yona lowered her gaze. But she believed in Yun. He was amazing and if he can't, no one really can.
"Yun is very talented. He can do incredible things. If no one helps, Yun can try. Just trust him. He knows how to keep secrets."
Kouka still needs Su-Won. She and Hak still need him.
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lanejadenx · 1 year
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Bio ~
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Born: Lane John Jaden May 13, 1993 (29 years old) Vichy, France Gender, Pronouns & Sexuality: Male, He/Him, Straight Hometown: New York City Affiliation: The Syndicate Job position: Professional Thief Education: Middle School, GED Relationship status: Single. Ashanti Garcia (m. 2018-2019), Oriane Cion (m. 2012) Children: 0 Positive traits: Generous, Spontaneous, Team-Player, Protective, Adventurous Negative traits: Impulsive, Violent, Manipulative, Vengeful, Cocky
Early Life and Background Lane Jaden was born in Vichy, France and moved with his father to New York City at 4 years old. He is the youngest of three children born to John Wilson Jaden and Marie Hélène Jaden.
Lane's parents were married for 27 years and met in Vichy, France where they raised their three children up until their divorce in 1997. His father was a water treatment operator and, reportedly, a harsh man who believed in discipline. Lane's older sister, Audrey, was born in 1977 and after their parents' divorce just before Lane's fourth birthday, she has cared for him for several years. Their mother, Marie Hélène remarried to a successful French banker and moved to Paris, France where she had two other children. Estranged from his mother at an early age, Lane had a stronger bond with his older sister and was devastated when she married and left the nest. His older brother, Dimitri was born in 1970 and pursued acting despite his father's disapproval. Lane has never truly known him as Dimitri has never shown any interest to his younger brother and never set foot in New York City or the United States.
Teenage Years and Career
In the late 90s to 00s, John Wilson found himself having to raise Lane on his own. His daughter Audrey had her own family to take care of, and his ex-wife along with his oldest son were leading their own separate lives across the pond. Reaching his 50s and suffering from health problems, he often asked Audrey to take care of him as she continued to act like a substitute mother.
As a teenager, Jaden was frequently in trouble for fighting and petty theft; he was also noted for his "bewildering personality" and bullying of smaller children. At 15, he quit high school to work in a car garage. His father feared that the city was corrupting his son, prompting him to move to Mooresville, Indiana  in 2009. However, Lane's wild and rebellious behavior was unchanged, despite his more rural life. In 2011, he was arrested for auto theft, and his relationship with his father deteriorated. Exhausted by his behavior, he decided to ship him off to Paris to live with his mother. Despite having not finished high school, his father convinced him to enroll to Sorbonne University to take semester-based courses to improve his French and obtain a certification. Having only seen his mother at the age of 4, their reunion was awkward and cold. Lane had difficulty fitting in with his half siblings whom he thought received special treatment. He made frequent phone calls to his father begging him to take him back home which he refused as he was hoping Lane could find a more stable home with his half-siblings. But the opposite ensued. Fights broke out between them and one incident involving his stepfather prompted his mother to throw him out of the house. With no money and nowhere to go, Lane ended up couchsurfing and later met his girlfriend Oriane which he later married at only 19. The impulsive marriage was annuled 55 hours later.
Second Marriage, Streetcar Racing and Imprisonement
In 2015, after living for two years in Paris, working as a mechanic, Lane returned to New York City and encouraged his father to leave Indiana to join him. His fascination with cars continued and he became part of the street racing scene while making ends meet as a cashier. In 2016, Lane moved to Miami, one of the most popular racing location and continued his dangerous hobbie that fulfilled his need for constant adrenaline. He met his wife Ashanti in 2018 and they divorced one year later.
At 69 years old, John Jaden announced he was suffering from pancreatic cancer. Devastated by the news, Lane started stealing cars from the streetcar racing community. The drivers, who drove a fleet of luxury sport cars including Ferraris, Lamborghinis and McLarens later found out that Lane was selling parts of their cars for profit. Indeed, attempting to pay for his father's chemotherapy, he decided to plan a robbery with a friend who was an ex-convict. The two robbed a local grocery store, stealing $1K. While leaving the scene, the criminals were spotted by someone who recognized the men and reported them to the police. During the robbery, Lane had also carried a gun which, although it discharged, hit no one. The two men were arrested the next day. Lane demanded to be incarcerated to New York City to be close to his father whose condition worsened. He slowly became part of The Syndicate while behind bars, finally earning money for what he knew what to do best: stealing.
Jaden was convicted of assault with intent to rob, and conspiracy to commit a felony. He was released 2 years later in 2021, his father passed away that year at the age of 71.
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