#tw: terminal illness

[thepupperino]

Hi Keely! How about Gallavich in a 38 kiss?

HI SARAH first of all let me say—I am so sorry??? I know I’m kind of an angsty girl, but 😶

Anyway tw for cancer/terminal illness, lots of sadness ahead

(If you HATE this please let me know and I can find a different direction for this prompt I’m so serious)

38. …because they’re running out of time

It’s not what he expected when they got married, that one day he’d find himself sitting in a doctor’s office, his hearing fading out as soon as the oncologist said, “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t expect Ian to lose weight so quickly, the drawstring on his sweats cinched as tightly as possible, his body swimming in shirts that used to be too small.

He kept his hair through it all, always making some joke about ginger superpowers, but Mickey was ready to shave his head at a moment’s notice if it started falling out.

One year becomes six months becomes two months becomes “weeks, maybe”, and Ian’s decided he wants it to happen at home, in their little apartment on the West Side that Mickey’s not sure he can afford on his own.

Their insurance covered a hospital bed, one that adjusts so he can sit up to take his meds. Mickey hasn’t slept in their bed since they got it, taking the couch when the pain is too bad to have him close and crawling in beside him when Ian can handle it.

“You have to mourn me for at least a year,” Ian says, pressed up against him in the hospital bed. “You can date after that, I don’t care, but you have to be sad for at least a year.”

Mickey doesn’t know how to tell him that he’ll be sad for the rest of his life, so he presses his lips to his forehead and hopes he gets the message.

Anyway you can prompt me too if you want

[one-time-i-dreamt]

My sister was going to die in three days from kidney failure, but it’s fine because she got cursed with immortality. Also Jiminy Cricket was there. 🦗

[prince-honeypaw]

WARNING: This post contains mentions of terminal illness and parental death! Proceed with caution.

♡ There are no secrets kept between Tamaki and Mirio. They've grown up together since they were just developing their quirks and have been attached at the hip for just as long. Where Tamaki went, Mirio was never far behind! They're in perfect tandem.

♡ Up until their first year at UA that is.

♡ Going to a prestigious hero school was already very stressful for Tamaki, but that wasn't all that bore down on his frazzled mind. Not long before he was accepted into UA, his grandmother had passed away. She was his only living family member after his mother passed from a terminal illness when he was rather young, which meant that he was hopping from foster home to foster home his entire first year. It was terrifying for him!

♡ He was so afraid of being alone again.

♡ Mirio was at a loss on how to help his closest friend. He knew that Tamaki was struggling with moving every month or so, but nothing he tried seemed to alleviate that stress. From putting time aside to help him try to regress or taking him out to do something fun, it only ever ended in Tamaki going home in tears.

♡ It wasn’t until he started his work study with Fatgum that someone finally found the solution to—at least one of—Tamaki’s anxieties. He was adopted by the BMI Hero and finally had that stable living situation that he desperately needed in order to thrive! And, with that settled, Tamaki’s little slowly started to come back out one step at a time. He was hesitant to let Taishiro know about his regression, but Taishiro is one of the most understanding and open minded heroes out there. Different strokes for different folks!

♡ And, while happy that Tamaki was starting to feel better enough to regress again, Mirio couldn’t help but feel this little twinge of disappointment. Disappointment in himself for not being able to help his best friend when he needed it most. He tried his best to not let it get to him, but oh did his smile not quite reach his eyes for a time afterwards. He was afraid of not being needed anymore.

♡ Soon after, things went back to how they used to be! For the most part. New routines filled the cracks and became the new norm... Up until another wrench was thrown in the cogs a year and a half later.

♡ UA's dorm system was implemented for the safety of the students, but Tamaki feels like it was an attack on him personally. He had gone through so much to settle in with Taishiro! He paced and fretted over the new stressor for days upon days before it was time to move in. Taishiro promised that everything would be peachy keen, and that he'd always have his home in Esuha when all was said and done! It wasn't like he was being exiled.

♡ His words went in one ear and right out the other the moment he had to pack away his regression gear, squawking and fretting that someone would find out! He couldn't- He shouldn't- He WOULDN'T! And, regretfully, he didn't. Taishiro said that if he changed his mind, he'd have it all packed and ready to go when he saw him next, but Tamaki was stubborn in his decision.

♡ Moving into the dorms was suspiciously simple to Tamaki. He didn't drop anything, didn't trip up the stairs, didn't spill water on the new carpet in his dorm- And having dinner with the rest of his class wasn't a disaster either. It was actually... Very fun! Nejire was in the dorm across from his own and Mirio was just a floor away, so he didn't feel as alone as he thought he would be.

♡ It was nice. Something he would have to tell Taishiro about later.

♡ However, he hadn't noticed just how much later it had gotten! The sky had grown darker and most of the class had already disappeared into their dorms, leaving a chilling quiet to bear down on his mind. He'd been so content with the company of so many familiar faces that it never occured to him that his schedule had been thrown off entirely.

♡ First was brushing his teeth. Then was taking his medication with a bottle- A bottle he didn't have. That was fine, it was fine! There was no need to freak out, okay... He could just skip that part and take his medicine with a glass of water. Then he could get dressed and get Lilliput r- Lilliput was still at home. Okay... Okay, that would be harder to do without, but he didn't need to freak out! He... Papa could fix it-

♡ Like the shatter of glass, Tamaki's already slipping headspace crashed to the floor with that realization. Papa wasn't there. He was all alone now, all alone without the comforts he'd grown to rely on when the world felt so much bigger and he felt so... so small. Tears fell hot and thick, hiccups burning his throat. He was alone, he was alone, he was alone, he—

"Tamaki?"

♡ His breath caught and he snapped to attention. Mirio, suddenly understanding the situation with only a look, wore an expression that was as warm as sunlight, reaching out and taking Tamaki's hands.

"Hi there, sunshine! What's going on up here?" He asked with a gentle tap of his fingertip to the baby's forehead. Tamaki blinked through the tears and immediately jammed himself into Mirio's comforting presence and fit against him like a puzzle piece, hiccuping when he managed to speak. His words were jammed together between panic and his headspace, but Mirio nodded along as though it was just another conversation.

♡ Because, to him, it was! He knew baby Tamaki just as well as he knew big Tamaki, through timid mumbles and teary babbling, Mirio understood him. Rough thumb pads gingerly wiped the still falling tears off his ruddy cheeks, and Mirio spoke in a soft voice he knew was just for him.

"Okay, I gotcha, I gotcha! I still have some of your stuff on hand, remember?"

At the slow nodding, Mirio smiled, "That's right, so we can text your papa that you need your stuff and go get it after class tomorrow, 'kay? It's no big deal."

♡ Tamaki, still sniffling, echoed the words, "No big deal...", before letting Mirio guide him through his nighttime routine with what they had. A sippy full of water and a puppy plush suited him just fine, but following Mirio to his room was just inevitable. He felt so much less lonesome with him there and Mirio couldn't find it in himself to take Tamaki up to his own room.

♡ So, they settled in for the night in Mirio's dorm. Tamaki picked out a story on his tablet while Mirio washed the spare pacifier he kept around for Tamaki when he would stay over. With the pacifier clean and the sippy refilled with fresh water, Mirio returned to tuck in under the covers and pop the soother in Tamaki's mouth. They were in for a night of reading fairy tales and just being together.

♡ Tamaki barely lasted more than five minutes before he dozed off, his head resting against Mirio's chest. The thrum of his heartheat against his ear was like a lullaby soothed him into letting out a murmured, "N'ni, Mewi..."

♡ While holding Tamaki in his strong, scarred arms and stroking calloused fingers through indigo blue locks, feeling Tamaki's breathing slow into a gentle purr of sleep... Mirio wonders what he ever had to worry about in the first place.

[vlouette]

Story Prompt

(TW: terminal illness, mention of time left to live)

James Potter has a terminal illness that leaves him only 1 more year to live while he was grieving he met this one guy (regulus) in a coffee shop and immediately fell in love he spent a few months going back to the coffee shop just to admire the guy from afar before one day he built the courage to talk to him, then some shit happens (I can't get too much into the details that I have in my mind because it is very long and I'm not the best at wording stuff) then they finally start dating. But James was too busy falling in love and admiring from afar not realizing that he only had 1 month left to live after they started dating

can someone write this... if anyone wants to write it I can help brainstorm more ideas just DM me

[batwynn]

A Recipe for Grief

With shaky hands he crushes the chunks of still-too-cold butter into the sugar, impatient for the taste of it. It’s a gift, his mom’s chocolate chip cookie recipe that has no recipe. He can’t write it down, it’s made of handfuls and feelings. It tastes just right. Tastes just like the memories of tall kitchen counters and the smell of cheap vanilla extract. Of the excitement of creation, and the sweet reward of the work.

His mom is still here, in the other room. But today he’s letting the grief creep in as he mashes a fork through the slowly melting butter. He knows he doesn’t have the memory like her, to keep this recipe alive. He knows he has no one to pass it down to, no one to teach by showing the handfuls and speaking the feelings. He knows there isn’t a lot of time before she can’t correct his mistakes with it anymore.

The words “pregame grief” pop into his head, and he laughs a little as he cracks the eggs. His whole life has been pregame grief, one batch of cookies at a time. He knew what the threat of death was when he was five, knew there was an inevitable end to the familiar. To the safe and comfort of old, green sweaters and chocolate chip cookies. Predictable as the sliver of eggshell that always makes its way into the dough.

Maybe it’s a gift. Learning early on that that one and only person could be gone at any moment. Maybe it steadies the hands when you get the news that the end is predictable, written down like everyone else’s recipes. Maybe it keeps you up at night, trying to find ways to re-write the measurements. Ways to avoid burning when you have to bake them. Trying to find ways to let it go, and let the science and time do their work.

But letting it go is hard. Measuring with your heart when your brain tells you that’s too many chocolate chips. Letting go says the whole bag, why not? Life is short. Life is short, but it’s coming together now and forming something cohesive. The wet and the dry. The whole bag of chips, she says from the other room. It’s a gift.

[bringthekaos]

On a more serious note i remember taking a screenshot of each time Viktor is like. *Looking* at the Hexcore and. Man. Stop looking at it as if its your wife or like your drug. Its scary. Please return to being normal. I can’t believe Jayce never noticed how concerning it was

I truly believe, had he not been forced into politics against his will, and was spending his usual amount of time in the lab, Jayce would have noticed. I feel like the “are you sure this is safe” line was even hinting at his worry about the risks Viktor was taking with the Hexcore.

I also think that whatever this influence is that the Hexcore is exuding onto Viktor (whether it’s the Void or not)… it’s sentient. It knows it needs to keep itself secret if it wants to continue to put its feelers in Viktor’s psyche, and as such, I feel like it started to manipulate Viktor’s behavior. Viktor already had a tendency to pull away from people when he was struggling (“he disappeared. He does that sometimes”), so it wouldn’t have been that much of a stretch for this habit to get worse without people around him noticing (especially in the wake of his terminal diagnosis—everyone has a different reaction to a terminal diagnosis, and sometimes solitude is one of them. Jayce may have wanted to respect that. And that’s a slippery slope, with no right answer—do you force yourself into someone’s personal life when they don’t want you there? Do you leave them alone, even when it’s clear they’re hurting and could use the support? I can understand how they end up in a sort of stalemate, because everyone is afraid of encroaching on boundaries.)

But the sad truth is that Viktor’s desperation to save himself is what drove him to these extreme measures, and even without the Hexcore’s influence, that desperation would still be there. The Hexcore was his hope, and I understand how hope—even when flawed—can be addicting. At that point, there would have been no going back to “being normal,” because either way he’d suffer. He truly is backed into a corner, and the inevitable snarling, gnashing, lashing-out rage at the injustice is yet to come, I think.

[wellthebardsdead]

Astarion being able to smell and taste Tav’s blood and he detects they have something the likes of terminal cancer. At first he doesn’t say anything, he’s just using them for protection and food after all it’s none of his business. But then he starts to fall in love. His heart breaks hearing Tav speak so hopefully about their future after getting rid of the parasite. And he realises the disease is going to take them away from him and with no cure in sight he’s left with one option… and his heart is too selfish to ever let them go after feeling genuine love for the very first time…

So he Ascends against their wishes, and turns them, giving them his blood too so they can walk in the sun together and he can try to give them their hopeful future… however dark his new twisted nature may ultimately make it in the long run.

[bruisedconscience-reblogs]

ALSO ONCE MORE I SCREAM

HOUSE KNOWS IN THE PILOT THAT JAMES’ UNCLE DIED OF CANCER

AND THIS IN NO WAY IS THE ENTIRE BASIS FOR JAMES’ CAREER IN ONCOLOGY NO WAYYY

[moralpuppet]

In your main verse, how do you envision Orel growing up? His family, his beliefs, stuff like that?

In your main verse, how do you envision Orel growing up? His family, his beliefs, stuff like that?

Okay so if I had to give some key notes this is going to be long and rambly, and feature talk of depression , death , terminal illness so please be careful going through ... starting from the end of the episode honor here you go ....

OFFICIALLY UNRELEASED CONTENT / END OF THE SHOW

talking about Grandpa Puppington / goth Orel / I mention terminal illness and death here so please skip over if needed !

Orel by the end of the show is 13 . It's not ever OFFICIALLY announced but we know from season 1 his birthday is after Halloween and before Christmas . He never fully recovers from being shot and as they said in the last episode he continues to limp even in deleted scripts that follow episodes that never made it because of the shows cancellation .

We know that in unreleased scripts he loses his grandfather on Easter after Clay basically condemns Orel's Grandpa to Orel's bed as a death bed when Arthur Puppington ( Orel's Grandpa ) comes to Clay seeking reconciliation as he is terminal .

Orel comes home to Arthur every night and tells him about his day , getting a new perspective on lessons , as we know , Orel usually mistakenly gets wrong/misguided by . Arthur is essentially a grounding perspective and helps Orel become a little more wary of what he trusts .

Orel at this time seems , at least in the scripts , to have not forgiven Clay but he's still caring about Clay , at least still showing that he has some respect and generally loves him as his father still . He prays to God for Clay and Arthur to reconcile in hopes that it would stop Clay from "getting any sadder " I quote he says " he can't afford to get any sadder " . Of course that never happens and they never reconcile .

After Orel loses Arthur , he becomes a Christian Goth for a while sort of not denouncing his faith but not fully committing to it either. He is essentially lost and he's in this state of grief for a few weeks until Reverend Putty can't stand seeing him like this anymore and snaps him out of it .

That's it for unreleased stuff really ... Here's where headcannons come into it .

HEADCANNONED STUFF !

Relationship to faith after Goth Orel tm ! Found family

Things don't necessarily go back to normal but Orel is now finding that returning back to focusing on his faith is actually helping him with the grief and loss . As my good friends @ rvrend and @ dollene have built up he comes to Reverend Putty more and more , finding that the good reverend is more like a father figure to him than Clay but not quite making that leap because of the views he was raised on that he must honour his biological father . Noellene too is far more motherly than Bloberta . She is more emotional unlike the emotionally withdrawn Bloberta .

Orel also is a far better brother to Shapey and Block , teaching them to do stop motion animation too and helping them get schooling by teaching them at home so they could enroll in a public school .

FAMILY / CHRISTINA AND DOUGHY

Eventually , in his late teens to early adulthood ,Orel finds an interest in architecture of religious buildings , something he could sculpt out of clay and design in other ways like he used in his stop-motion videos / my friend scribbs actually suggested this one . And of course all the while he and Christina are still very much sweethearts.

His relationship to Clay and Bloberta become estranged but he still invites them to important gatherings, probably had to kick Clay out of his and Christina's family home for being a violent drunk a few times . Clay and Bloberta are still stuck together ! Block and Shapey become a fireman and a police officer ! Orel and Christina of course get married and have a family of their own like in cannon.

Lastly , I will say Doughy , Orel always wanted to stay in touch and still be his best friend but I quite like the fan headcannon by the fandom that Doughy is incredibly jealous of Christina due to actually having a crush on Orel since childhood and maybe sadly he pushes Orel away .

Orel always keeps his faith .

OKAY so that was a lot but if you ever want to ask any more questions or for me to elaborate on anything let me know !

[byteing]

"I know the look of a doomed man." ((For Viktor <3

Something about the man felt out of place here, down in the fissures. He looked like he belonged topside; finely dressed but not ostentatious, clean and neat in a way few people were down here. With a voice like that, though, he could have been from anywhere.

Viktor squinted up at him more from pain than low light. Getting down here had been a hassle just a few years ago: now, with his condition, it was excruciating. There were ramshackle elevator-like contraptions all around the lanes to help people like him, but never enough of them and they didn’t always work. It was better than Piltover—the academy was hell to navigate now—but it was far from perfect. He thought about all the stairs and awkward slopes he’d have to climb and wanted to lie down for a year.

Leaning against the railings of the bridge they were on, suspended over what felt like an endless yawning pit below, Viktor regarded the man in white with neither hostility nor friendliness. In the Undercity it was better to be on your guard than not, but he didn’t feel threatened - only somewhat dismayed that his illness was visible even to outsiders.

Maybe the man was from the Lanes, actually. Plenty of people were dying down here, just like Viktor. The signs were obvious if you knew what to look for.

“Do I look that bad?” It was halfway a joke, but not really. Viktor looked away from the man’s hidden eyes and down at the darkness below. “Doomed is not how I would prefer to describe myself. I still have time. Not as much of it as I would like, but…”

Despair yawned in his chest. He gripped his crutch hard.

“Who are you, anyway?” Golden eyes flickered up and down, looking the stranger over. Calculating. “Did someone send you for me?” Jayce might have, if he thought Viktor had been in the city too long, alongside his dangerous brethren.

[arwenkenobi48]

Mugen Yume: The Life and Dreams of Tamio Enmu

Chapter Two: Beautiful Lies

[WARNING: This chapter contains themes of gaslighting, suicide, mental breakdowns, blood and death. If any of these topics are distressing for you, then please take care of your mental health first and foremost. Only read on if you’re in the right state of mind to do so. Without further ado, here it is.]

“Take a deep breath. In and out. That’s it. Just relax and focus on the watch as it sways back and forth. Back and forth…listen to the gentle ticking and the soft sound of my voice. Very good. The longer you listen to my voice, the longer you focus on the watch, the more you feel your eyelids growing heavy. You’re getting very, very sleepy, aren’t you? So sleepy…when I count down from five to one, you will fall asleep, your mind still listening to my every word. Are you ready? Mmm…good. Five…four…three…two…one. Sleep now.”

With these words, Tamio Enmu snapped his fingers. He watched with a smirk of satisfaction as the young woman closed her eyes, her head drooping forward ever so slightly. Like every other person who entered his office - patients, clients, subjects, whatever he wanted to call them - she was now in a deep trance, her mind a blank canvas waiting to be painted by the artist’s cunning hand.

“Can you hear me, Midori?” “Yes, sir…” Her voice was soft, as if she was taking in her sleep. “How do you feel? Calm and relaxed, hmm?” “Yes, sir.” “Ahhh, perfect…” Tamio could barely contain his delight. “Now, my dear, tell me all that troubles you. Soon, all your problems will just float away, like a distant dream…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The perfectly synchronised ticking of a hundred watches filled the workshop. Each one crafted by hand, a work of art, a mechanical marvel. Tamio’s eyes looked around the room in a dazed manner. If this was really his father’s workshop, what a curious place it was. If it was a dream, then how beautifully strange a dream he was having.

Eventually, the boy’s gaze settled on a table, a perfect replica of a miniature railway set upon it. Standing on the tips of his toes, Tamio peered over the table top and pressed a small button. The tiny train seemed to spring into life, its rails clacking rhythmically as it embarked on its endless journey. Round and round it went, going nowhere and everywhere all at once.

“Ah, I see you’re showing interest in the family business, son.” His father’s voice made Tamio jump a little. “I’ve been working on that train for about two months now,” Taro smiled as he approached the table. “I hadn’t got around to testing it out yet, but it looks like it works perfectly, wouldn’t you say?”

Tamio looked up at his father’s face, so alight with an almost childlike eagerness as he tried to coax a response from his introverted offspring. The boy looked back at the train, then at his father again. “Papa, is this a real train?” “Haha, of course not, Tamio. It’s only a model.” Taro laughed a little nervously.

“I know. I mean, this is real, right? It’s not a dream, is it?”

Taro’s smile began to crack, now only serving as a mask for his sadness. His shoulders visibly slumped as the last faint spark of hope drained from his teal eyes.

Every time Tamio asked that question, it instilled more and more dread within him. No matter how many times he tried to assure his son that this was real life, no matter how often he tried to form a bond with him, he never made any progress. Tamio would just outright refuse to believe any of it was real.

At first, Taro had been willing to believe that Tamio just needed a little compassion, but ten whole years of the same experience over and over again had driven him to his breaking point.

“Oh, I don’t know. Is it all just a dream?” Taro uttered a strange laugh that sounded more like a stifled sob. He practically staggered over to his work desk and slumped over it, his head buried in his hands. His hair, once combed to perfection, was now an unkempt crop that longed for a proper wash.

Tamio tilted his head curiously to one side, slowly walking to his father’s side. “Papa?” Taro looked down, his eyes brimming with frustrated tears. Tamio didn’t even look worried, just mildly perplexed. In an instant, a whole decade’s worth of bewilderment, exasperation and emotional exhaustion built up and spilled down Taro’s cheeks.

“Tamio Enmu, if only you could just…feel something!”

Not even a hint of emotion showed on the boy’s face. He just tilted his head to one side again as if he was some sort of bird. “Like what?”

Taro couldn’t even bring himself to answer. With a groan of defeat and disappointment, he stormed out of the workshop, the door slamming behind him. An ornate silver watch fell off the edge of a shelf and Tamio caught it with both hands.

He held it up by its chain and gently swung it back and forth, his vacant eyes following each and every motion, the mechanical ticking drowning out his parents’ latest argument, both participants feeling utterly alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You can feel it, can’t you? All your worries and cares just drifting away. No more burdens, no illness to weigh you down. It’s all in your head, Midori. You can just wish it all away. You know yourself better than anyone, even those who told you you were sick. They were wrong about you. You are young and free, full of life. Do you feel that life within you, Midori?”

Midori smiled, her mind submerged in the depths of the trance. A tear of joy glistened on her cheek. “Yes, sir. I feel…so wonderful.” “Very good, Midori. You’ve done so well today. Now I’m going to wake you up, but don’t fret. This wonderful dream will stay with you and become your reality. It is your reality. You are cured of all diseases, ready to take on the world. Now then, take another deep breath for me as I count you up.”

“One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Wake up, Midori.”

Her beautiful eyes opened, bright with hope and happiness. Her hands, still trembling from the disease she no longer believed she had, clasped Tamio’s hand with an almost delirious sense of gratitude. “Oh, thank you! Thank you, Doctor! I don’t know what I’d do without you!”

Enmu simply smiled. He couldn’t help but pity her. Poor thing, she only had a few months left before the illness claimed her. She might as well spend her final days wrapped in a hypnosis-induced fantasy. After all, a beautiful lie was much more appealing than a painful truth.

And to think how strong and lively Midori had been in her youth. All those times she had skipped through grassy fields without a care in the world, her long hair flowing in the breeze. Enmu thought back to the days of his childhood, how he’d often watched Midori from the corner of the classroom. How she’d always catch him and quickly look away. But he knew she was smiling, even if she didn’t show it.

She was certainly smiling now, gazing at him with such pathetic adoration, as if he was some sort of guardian angel. Foolish girl, how could she have known that she was face to face with the angel of death?

“You’re most welcome, my dear.” Enmu gently caressed Midori’s cheek. “Come and see me again sometime, won’t you?” “Oh, I will. I will!” Midori’s voice practically sang with delight. “Thank you, Doctor Utsumi.”

The months of conditioning had finally paid off. She no longer remembered his true name.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Minister Takahashi? Well, this is a pleasant surprise. Please, do come in. Tell me, what can I do for you?” No sooner had the words left Enmu’s mouth, than the sharply dressed man who stood before him sank to his knees, despair written all over his tearstained face. “Please…please help me…” His voice was little more than a shaky whisper. “I’ve just received some very bad news…”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place, sir. Now, tell me all about it.”

And he did. Minister Takahashi’s words started out muddled and riddled with emotions at first, but after Enmu spoke a few gentle words, he managed to compose himself. “My doctor’s been lying to me,” the distraught man explained. “He’s been telling me I’m ill, that my health is failing, that I’m on death’s doorstep. Worst of all, he told me you’d been poisoning my mind! Doctor Enmu, please tell me it isn’t so! Please tell me it’s just another bad dream!”

Enmu’s lips pursed in a sympathetic pout. He gently placed his hand on top of his patient’s. “Hush, hush. Of course he’s been lying to you. What awful lies he’s been pouring into your ears. I would never hurt any of my clients. As for ill health, we’ve already discussed this, haven’t we? Do you remember what I told you, Minister?”

Taking a deep breath, Minister Takahashi nodded. “It’s all in my head. I can wish it all away.” “Exactly. Remember that these kinds of people can only harm you if you let them. Never let the words of a charlatan get into your head.” Enmu smiled gently. “I’ve already cured you of your ailments. You have all the time in the world to live your life. But if you’re really that worried…”

“Yes? Go on, what is it?” The man’s voice was raw with desperation. Enmu’s daydreaming eyes gazed back into his. “I suppose I could take you under again. Just to help you dream all those bad memories away. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” “Oh, thank you, sir. I think I need that.” “Perfect. Now, just take a deep breath, relax and listen to the sound of my voice. Soon, all of your worries will be nothing more than a dream…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The news shocked the entire region. When it was first announced, you could have heard a pin drop. Nobody could believe it. Nobody wanted to believe it. But they had no choice. The evidence was clear. Minister Takahashi was dead.

He’d been found hanging from the branch of a tree behind his family’s home. A note was found in his pocket, but what it said left more questions than answers. ‘Doctor Enmu lied about everything.’

What started as shock soon turned to sorrow, but the sorrow just as quickly turned into anger. How could someone manipulate the minister to such a degree that it would lead to his death?

When he was first diagnosed with his illness, the doctors told Mr Takahashi that there was still hope, that he could receive some treatment to relieve the pain. But he’d refused after visiting the shady hypnotherapist mentioned in his suicide note. He’d not only refused any and all treatment that could have saved his life, but he refused to believe he was ever terminally ill in the first place.

Even when his wife and children begged him to take some medicine and to see a real doctor, he wouldn’t listen. He just kept repeating five words, over and over, with a faraway look in his eyes. “It’s all in my head, it’s all in my head, it’s all in my head…”

But the truth was not in his head. It was unavoidable, even when under the influence of hypnosis. All it had taken was for Mr Takahashi to look in the mirror and see the face of a dead man staring back at him. Then he knew what was going to happen.

Even as he had prepared to do something he couldn’t undo, he’d made sure that his killer wouldn’t get away with his crimes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tears poured down Kyoko’s face, her anguished sobs filling the house. As she pounded her trembling fist against the floor, her shoulders heaving, only one coherent word came from her mouth. “Why!?” She screamed, her once warm and gentle eyes now emptied by horror and betrayal. “Why? Why? Why?”

Enmu stood before his mother as she lay sobbing at his feet. “Oh, mama…” he whispered, kneeling down to tilt her chin up with one hand. “You’ve always looked so beautiful when you’re in pain.”

“Get your filthy hands off of her!” Taro wrenched his son’s hands away from Kyoko, who curled up into a foetal position, still bawling. The watchmaker’s entire face was distorted by rage, his glaring, reddened eyes burning with tears, his teeth gritted. “Why, Tamio? Why did you do it? How many suffering souls did you lead to their deaths!?”

“I just wanted to give them happy dreams,” Enmu’s carefree smile only increased Taro’s disgust. “It’s more fun that way, when they open their eyes and find that their reality has become a living nightmare.”

Taro’s eyes widened in horror, his tears spilling. “Why, you…You disgusting little bastard!” Before he could stop himself, Taro clenched his fist and punched Enmu hard in the face. Seeing this, Kyoko cried out in anguish.

“Papa…you hit me…” Enmu slowly turned to look at his father, but his face bore a look of elation rather than pain. As Taro watched, his anger and disgust mounting, Enmu’s mouth stretched in an uncomfortably wide smile, the kind of smile that didn’t reach one’s eyes. A trickle of blood ran down his chin, his lower lip split open.

“You hit me…” Enmu repeated, an unsettlingly childlike giggle emerging from his mouth. “You hit me! You hit me! Oh, I just knew you would!” He was practically jumping for joy. “Do it again! Again, papa! Let me feel your hand on my face once more!”

“No, no! Get away from me, you sick monster!” Taro reached into his pocket, pulling out a knife he’d once used for making metal engravings. Kyoko cowered in terror as she watched her husband pull a knife on her son.

Perhaps it was through a warped maternal instinct, or a hallucination brought on by her mind shattering from a truth too painful to bear, but in that moment, Kyoko saw Enmu not as the man he had become, but the boy he once was. Her baby, taking his first steps, trying to form his first words, giggling playfully as he approached his father, who was now holding a knife and preparing to stab him. “NO!” Kyoko shrieked, rushing towards them as a struggle ensued. “NOT MY BABY!”

Everything blurred. Taro pushed Enmu to the floor, raising the knife, but as he brought it down, the blade pierced his beloved wife’s heart instead. Taro’s wail of grief shook the walls of that dark, dark house. Kyoko coughed up a mouthful of blood, choking out her final breaths. “T-Tamio…” she whimpered, tears still running down her pallid cheeks. “My…little…baby…”

The light faded from her eyes.

Taro sank to the floor, cradling his wife’s body, unable to do anything but sob over and over again. “I’m sorry, Kyoko! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Several droplets of his mother’s blood trickled down Enmu’s skin as he sat upright, his face still twisted in sadistic ecstasy. “Look, look at what you’ve done, Papa. What a beautiful dream this is…”

His soulless grin, the blood on his hands, the realisation that his worst nightmares had come true. It was all too much for Taro Enmu to take.

When his body was discovered, he was found slumped against the wall, one lifeless arm still holding his wife’s corpse, curled up in his lap. In the other hand was the knife, with which he had slit his own throat. Not a trace of their son could be found. He seemed to have vanished into thin air.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Following Tamio Enmu’s disappearance, rumours began to circulate that alongside instigating Minister Takahashi’s suicide, he was also the one responsible for his parents’ horrific deaths. Some said that he had brainwashed his parents into killing one another, others claimed he had murdered them both and framed it as a suicide.

The more the rumours spread, the more they grew into grim tales, whispered in hushed tones among fearful crowds. Some parents even began warning their children to stay away from men claiming to be doctors, no matter how friendly they seemed. An omnipresent dread lurked everywhere.

The foreboding urban legend of a heartless doctor who could brainwash people into ending their lives spread near and far. It wasn’t long before these rumours reached the ears of a very dangerous individual.

Strolling down the dark streets on a dark night, he overheard the dark tale and resumed his journey with a dark purpose. Muzan Kibutsuji ran the tip of his tongue delicately across his thin lips. He was looking forward to devouring his next meal.

[veilxstars]

Prompt One:

In his nightmare, Lucian found himself back in the cramped room where his little brother Javier lay in bed, pale and fragile, his small body barely a whisper beneath the tangled blankets. The room was filled with a dim, sickly light, the air thick with the scent of medicine and stale air, punctuated by the faint rustle of his father’s heavy coat and his mother’s hushed, soothing whispers.

His parents stood beside Javier, faces lined with exhaustion and hope, promising him yet again that they would keep fighting—together they would make him well, they swore, voices breaking with the weight of belief. "We'll do anything we can, Javi," his mother said, her fingers trembling as she smoothed his hair. "You'll get better; we won’t stop until you do."

But Lucian saw Javier's expression, caught the faint quiver of his lips, the exhaustion that hung on him like a shadow. He saw his small hand, barely able to lift itself from the bed, reaching out, and all he wanted was to hold it, to wrap himself around him, to take away his suffering.

Yet his feet would not move. He could only watch, heart breaking as his parents’ voices filled the room with promises he knew they couldn't keep. The darkness outside the small window deepened, creeping into the corners of the room, seeping toward Javier's bedside, hungry and patient.

Desperation flared within him, a frantic urge to save him, to take away his pain, even if it meant abandoning his own strength. But his hands were empty. When he finally managed to take a step forward, reaching toward him, Javier’s face turned toward him, his eyes dark and weary, filled with an understanding far beyond his years.

“Lucian…” he whispered, the words too soft, fading into the shadows as his form grew weaker, slipping from his grasp. He stretched out his hand, desperate to close the distance, but Javier was slipping away, swallowed by the encroaching dark, as though even the memory of him were fading. His parents continued to murmur their promises, as if nothing had changed, as if he hadn’t already begun slipping through their fingers.

His heart ached with the emptiness of the words, the broken promises that lay heavy in the air as the dream unraveled around him, leaving him trapped, helpless as he reached for a little boy who was already too far gone.

With a gasp, Lucian jolted awake, heart racing, his hands gripping the bedsheets as if to anchor himself back in reality. The shadows in his room seemed to recede reluctantly, leaving only the lingering sense that something had followed him back from that dreadful dream, waiting patiently in the dim corners of his room. He had sold his soul, hadn't he?

The devil was coming for his due.

Prompt 2:

Lucian walked briskly down the sidewalk of Cardinal Hill, his thoughts swirling like the autumn leaves skittering across the pavement. The air had taken on an electric charge, a tension building that felt almost tangible, as though the world itself were holding its breath. He had been mulling over a new magic trick, something elaborate he hoped would bring a bit of joy to the children in town, when the wind began to shift—suddenly fierce and unrelenting.

The sky darkened, casting ominous shadows across the street, and the trees bent low, their branches swaying violently. As the gusts intensified, they carried with them whispers—murmurs of regret that intertwined with the howling wind, each one striking deep within his heart.

What if this was the time he would have been cured?

His pace faltered as guilt clawed at him, the voices swirling around him like a storm of doubt.

What if you killed him?

The thought landed like a stone in his chest. He shook his head, desperately trying to banish the dark musings. It was too much. Memories of his last moments with Javier flooded his mind—the way he had smiled through the pain, how he had promised him they would find a way together. He had promised.

The wind howled louder, as if mocking his internal turmoil. What if he is in heaven and he hates you? The question echoed, a specter that loomed larger than any illusion he could ever create on stage. Lucian gritted his teeth, his heart racing as tears threatened to spill.

“Stop it,” he murmured, forcing his feet to move forward. But the whispers only grew louder, relentless in their assault. He could almost see Javier’s frail figure in his mind, the way he had looked at him with trust, with love. The weight of his choice hung heavily on him, suffocating and insistent, leaving him breathless.

He stumbled to a halt in front of Mabbitt’s Magician Supply Store, his sanctuary, but even the familiar sight of the shop couldn’t chase away the shadows that clung to him. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, steadying himself against the relentless gusts that sought to tear him apart.

“Javier,” he whispered, his voice nearly lost in the wind. “I’m sorry. I wish I could have done more. I wish I could have saved you.” With each word, the tempest around him seemed to still momentarily, the whispers fading into a heavy silence, as though the world were listening.

Then, as the wind howled again, he began to speak a prayer in the old tongue known only to the Castillos—a language crafted to protect themselves as they traveled the country, words flowing from his lips like a balm against the raging storm.

“Ti síella, síon seyte, ávra séin yuven. Dureyka, llétiya, aivran’te.”

In that moment, he poured all his love, all his guilt, and all his hope into the prayer, the air around him shimmering faintly as the ancient words filled the space. He prayed for forgiveness, for peace, and for the strength to carry on in his memory, the wind finally subsiding into a gentle breeze, leaving him surrounded by a tranquil hush. Lucian stood there, heart still pounding, but resolute, feeling the weight of Javier’s presence as if he were beside him, offering comfort in the depths of his grief.

[hermesserpent-stuff]

Ive been rewatching the Justice League 2001 animated series cause its been a while since I watched it. and the bit were luthor finds out he has a blood disease from kryptonite was something I had forgotten about. I was listening to music when a full idea tapped at me.

tw: terminal illness discussion

preface, in my chilly batson au lex luthor and mirror master, sam scudder are friends.

anywho, I was thinking how that scenario would play out. I would edit it a bit, that the same experiment with kripotnite in his youth that caused him to loose his hair also gave him the underlying disease that was not caught till recently (this way it can be his fault but also not from carrying a radioactive rock in his pocket that he should have been keeping in a case om gosh luthor you idiot) it would be fairly similar to the show where he cant really accept it at first. But Superman is not the one trying to comfort him, its an actual friend. Luthor tries to solve it because that's what he does, but he also is less focused on revenge against superman for 'causing' this. He eventually settles into focusing on legacy and grows further withdrawn. He spends more and more time with the rogues as he finds a replacement. He finds it hard to see a world without him in it, but he finds that he does not want to be forgotten if he can not save himself.

there is a lot of late night crisis's of realizing that he is dying. and coming to terms with that.

he strikes me as the type to keep working and running the parts of the company that he can, because work makes him happy. But he also spends a lot of his final days playing chess. He sees some of his words of advice impacting the younger rogues and wonders if that is what it means to be immortal. To influence the future beyond his own life by speaking into the lives of those younger than him.

he leaves a lot of his anti-superman gear to the rogues. Just in case. He never did much trust superman not to snap or get fully mind controlled one day. and he trusts the rogues more than most of the other villains he has worked with.

anyways. i was listening to:

[amethyst-noir]

8 weeks ago I lost my mom, the most important person in my life.

I knew it was coming and by the end I was so just telling her to go to sleep for "as long as possible". It was the hardest thing I've ever done and I'm glad that the last thing we ever told each other was "Ich hab dich lieb. Ganz, ganz viel." (I love you. So, so much.) She was barely there, mentally, by that point but she understood that and she said and back and meant it.

It's a phrase we told each other multiple times every day, for years, and it was always sincere and an integral part of our relationship.

It matters. To me, it matters a lot. I was there just in time, in the afternoon on that Friday 8 weeks ago. I left at about 16:30, and got the call the next morning that she passed at around 5 in the night.

I also promised her to see her "tomorrow". I kept that promise, in the only way I could. I stepped into that hospital room for a few minutes and tried to wrap my head around what happend. I said goodbye. I'm not religous, so the only thing I could to say was that I hoped our atoms might one day be reunited in one way or the other. We're all made of stardust, aren't we?

I'm dealing with it. Badly, but I'm doing it. I have no other choice. By now I have written so many different versions of this post. I guess I just want to share it somehow. My mom has become a very introverted person over the decades and I want to shout it into the void that she was there, that she was loved, and that she will be missed for as long as I am here.

Fuck cancer.

I love you, Mama, and I wish life had been kinder to you.

[nvrlcnds]

Sorry for being so MIA, everyone. I will be back in the swing of things shortly. A few weeks ago we lost a family friend unexpectedly, and then the day after we buried her, my aunt died. We were processing that, and then my mom was sent to the hospital. She only just got to come home last night, and I'm keeping an eye on her as she does have two terminal illnesses, COPD & Lung Cancer; though the cancer is stable, and is not spreading. Regardless, her lungs are slowly collapsing from COPD which is why we have so many frequent hospital trips and why every few months or weeks, I tend to disappear. I'm her caregiver and the one who looks after the house, so it does take a lot on me mentally. Just thought I'd let everyone know, and that I am not ignoring replies or whatever it may be <3

[dontyoufeelcalmer]

terminal bf saved by a werewolf bite, the third installment

please do not repost w/o @ing me!!