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lovesickeros · 8 months

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☆ even the gods bleed

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, injury, light angst {☆} word count 2.3k

What was justice?

Focalors had asked herself that question many times during the long nights she spends awake pouring over the prophecy of a dead God, words replaying in her mind like a broken record until the sun rose like a blooming flower.

She was the God of Justice, an Archon, yet she herself lacked the answer to such a simple and yet so very complex question.

How does one define what is just and what is not? How does she know that what she believes to be just is right? Is it justice if one being alone may sway the scales of justice on a whim? What justice is there to be found in the cold, watery grave that awaits her nation?

She does not know.

Perhaps she may never know.

What she does know, at least, is that this is not justice.

It is a mockery of it.

She stands before the bloodied, broken body like the judge, her sword held so tightly in her hand her fingers feel stiff, a dull ache adding to the weight of what she's seen. For a long, horrible moment she almost thinks they are dead – something she would have reveled in, only a day prior – before she sees the subtle rise and fall of their chest. Breathing, but barely.

The rain felt heavier upon her shoulders at the realization – she was not sure if it was in relief or horror.

Her nails dig into her palm, mind stuck somewhere between that abject horror and confusion so palpable she swore she could hear the gears in her head turning.

For a long, silent moment as she stares upon the body beneath the heavy rain..she wonders if this is how it all ends instead. If the world itself will simply crumple in on itself and cease – without its heart, it will wither, after all – long before the waters ever swallow her nation whole.

Because, try as she might to rationalize it, for every drop of rain that hits her like pins and needles, soaking her down to the bone..the body of the imposter is completely dry. Even the water pooling along the stones dares not to leave so much as a splotch against their ragged, torn clothes.

She remembers the meeting so very clearly, and she thinks she is a fool to not have noticed sooner – the Creator upon their gilded throne, finger pointed in accusation at the visage far too similar to their own. The imposter. She remembers the lilt of their voice as they called for their death as easily as one would speak of the weather – and to no one other then herself would she admit the spark of fear it had ignited within her. Because beneath the divine charade there was a sick enjoyment in the way they looked upon the imposter – like a bug beneath their shoe.

She understands, now.

She had thought that perhaps finally – finally – she could do right by her people, by her Creator, if she rid Teyvat of this..intrusion.

Now she sees herself as what it all really is – blind lambs following the herder.

Perhaps she would be considered a heretic under the eyes of the law – beneath the weight of justice, heavy as the heart that bears its sins. Perhaps this is a mistake, one she would come to regret.

But for now, she sheathes her blade with unsteady hands, the sound making her ears ring – for what she had almost done, what she had already done – as she stumbles like a newborn lamb towards the broken body of..

..What, exactly? Human? Divine? She is not so sure what to call them. Creator? No. The name is bitter upon her tongue, now, burning like liquid flame down her throat.

Where once she had spoken it in reverence and admiration, it felt hollow and empty, now.

Her vision wavers as she kneels down against the rain soaked stones, the rain upon her back growing heavier as she reaches a shaky hand forth – and for a moment, however brief, she feels the weight of expectation, of a title she fears she may never live up to, wash away with the waters that fall from the heavens.

The bruises and blood smeared across their skin are like strokes of a paintbrush, their body the canvas from which such horrid art is created. It makes her ill.

Doubt wavers her composure briefly – her position is already unsteady. She has never been seen as an equal to many of the other Archons. Her own people do not see her as their Archon, but an actor in a grand play that they shall simply toss aside and replace like a broken doll the moment she bores them.

What does she have left to lose?

She reaches out again, her hand settling onto their shoulder and turning them onto their back. She..isn't sure what to do, actually. She's never been particularly physically capable – she tended to avoid fights, even if she oft provoked them – and she was certainly no healer.

Yet what choice does she have but to march on anyway? She is in the heart of the city, it is far more dangerous here then anywhere else..she had little time to make her move.

Fontaine was, after all, a nation founded on the principle of justice. To know an injustice has been made against the most Divine..the entire nation was in a frenzy.

Her eyes dart around nervously, hands clasped tight on their shoulders and her lips drawn into a taut line – someone would notice her absence. One of the Archons would point out her absence in the coordination of the search.

Her options were just as limited as her time – she couldn't just take them out of the city. Security was tight, and as much as she fancied herself an escape artist – Neuvillette could hardly keep her in one place for too long – she doubted she could do the same with the limp body of the imposter in tow.

..The Palais Mermonia it was, then.

Her room had a secret entrance that few knew about, and even fewer would dare to traverse. She just..had to hide them there for a bit and hope Neuvillette wouldn't notice anything different.

Probably.

Still, there was the problem of actually..transporting the body. As grim as it sounded. Her only solace was the fact she didn't have to worry about them catching a cold, at least, and their breaths were still audible, if only barely. So she had to resort to some..unexpected methods.

Seeing the limp form of, well, the imposter – she'd really have to ask for something else to call them when they woke up – stuck in a bubble of hydro wasn't exactly on her bucket list.

Then again, neither was treason.

Well, first time for everything, right?

It wasn't breaking the law if no one else knew about it.

..Neuvillette didn't have to know about it, really. It was fine.

She could, of course, technically try to talk some sense into Neuvillette – he'd listen to her, right? She thought she was pretty close with him..but he was also the one person more obsessed with justice then she was. Such a stickler for the law..so maybe she's breaking a few, it's fine.

But he was also pretty devout, as much as he tried to keep his worship private – with Focalors around, nothing was really secret. Maybe she could get him to settle down long enough to prove it.

..How was she going to prove it?

An exaggerated groan escaped her lips as she led the bubbled imposter – she really wished she didn't have to resort to that, it would be a lot a more awkward to explain then dragging the body around – through the winding streets of Fontaine. She's just glad she's already memorized the entire city like the back of her hand..and a little dramatics went a long way. People listened when the Hydro Archon spoke, and she was suddenly very, very glad for that fact, even if they treated her more like a mascot then a God.

And partially because she, maybe, just a little..stole a few documents detailing the layout and a little personal exploration of her own – but what Neuvillette didn't know couldn't hurt him!

After what felt like hours, though was really no more then half an hour at best, she'd managed to drag herself – soaked to the bone with rain – and the conveniently bubbled imposter up through the secret entrance and into her room.

The perceived safety, as flimsy as it was, was..comforting. Until she heard the rustle of fabric, the clearing of a throat and the pop of a bubble as she, in her surprise, popped it – and then the thud of the imposter hitting the floor.

She felt a bit of regret about that part, at least, wincing.

"Lady Furina." His voice was as sharp and cool as she remembered it always being – like fresh spring water, she'd heard it described. Soothing. It did not feeling very soothing right about now.

She turned sharply on her heel, a forced smile tugging at her lips on reflex, every muscle in her body tensed – she probably looked like a wet cat right about now, soaked with rain, but that was the last thing on her mind.

"Do you mind explaining what, exactly, you did?" Not what you're doing, she notes – what she did. He was mad. Oh, she was really in for a scolding now. She twiddled her thumbs, laughing weakly, though it quickly dies out at the awkward, tense silence.

"Well, you see – it's rather complicated! I can– I can explain." Her attempts to diffuse are met with a raised brow and the sharp tap of his cane. Every single thought is plagued with the urge to run, but the unsteady breathes of the 'imposter' keep her rooted in place. "Well?"

She was sweating bullets, her nails digging into her palm as she scrambled for any excuse that could warrant her not getting hauled off and scolded thoroughly at best – she was coming up empty. How was she supposed to prove that the 'imposter' was very much not what the 'Creator' said they were? Their unconscious body was doing no one any favors, certainly.

"The Creator is lying," She blurts out, immediately regretting her impulsiveness when she feels the sudden weight of his stare – the piercing hues of his eyes that remind her just who is the strongest between them. It is not her, she knows. It never has been. "You can see for yourself! Don't you trust me, Neuvillette–?"

Her voice is cut off by the sharp click of his cane as he strides across the room in only a few steps, his height making her feel like a child about to scolded. She hated it, but she grit her teeth through the exchange. She reminded herself that this was for the sake of the 'imposter' and any affront to her ego was..tolerable.

To her credit, too, she didn't immediately lash out when she saw him poke at their body with his cane, turning them onto their back – she wanted too, though. She considered it, but the thought was quickly shot down when his stare turned back upon her, and she felt frozen in place again, her tongue a heavy weight in her mouth.

Yet she couldn't shake the sudden tenseness to his shoulders, his brows furrowed and a distant look to his eyes. It was..haunting, in a way.

She knows it well, she realizes. The realization and acceptance, the crumbling of every solid foundation you've ever known – leaving you to flounder in the waves, alone and afraid.

The gentleness in which he picks up the limp body surprises her though, his cane set aside. The rain howls like a horrid storm outside, but she cannot focus on anything but the furrow of their brows, the soft noise that escapes their lips.

"I trust that you know that this must stay between us," His voice is soft, like the gentle lap of waves against the shore, as he sets their body down against the bed, his hand lingering against their cheek with something almost like reverence – and if her eyes do not deceive her, affection. "Lady Furina."

She does not hesitate to agree.

"Well– well of course!" She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning at the feeling of her wet clothes clinging to her skin, a heavy weight that feels like it's dragging her down. "Just what do you take me for?"

He doesn't deign to respond.

It only makes her fume more.

Not that he seems to notice, unbuttoning his heavy outerwear and tossing it on the bed, rolling up his sleeves and focusing on the injured– er..yeah, she really needed a new name for them. Calling them imposter felt wrong.

"So long as you understand, then we will have no problems." She huffs again, pouting and puffing up her cheeks, sitting down on the other end of the bed with only an occasional glance towards him as he worked at peeling away the ragged clothes and examining the injuries marring their skin.

She suddenly felt out of place.

..What was she supposed to be doing?

As if noticing her sudden quietness, Neuvillette sighed, his back turned to her though his attention very much falling upon her. She really hated the feeling like she was being dissected whenever he looked at her. It was unnerving. She doesn't know how anyone else handles it..

"If you are so eager to do something, Lady Furina, then please have something brought up for when our..guest awakens. They will need to recover their strength."

Finally! Something she can do. She perks up, her heels clicking on the floorboards as she darts out like a bullet, unable to stay still for so much as a moment.

Neuvillette, for his part..

Feels an odd sense of serenity as he stares upon the troubled features of the..guest. A peace that lessens the burdens upon his shoulders, the weight of a nation upon his back.

He cannot hear the rain, anymore.

..It must have stopped.

#sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin impact #fic tag #imposter au #focalors #furina #neuvillete #a family can be a dragon an archon and his 300 other children who reverse adopted him #u date him its a package deal sorry #u now have like 300 children g-dspeed #also tagged spoilers on neuvi's part bc its kinda a spoiler??? sort of #also this can be read as platonic or romantic on neuvi's part #can u tell i like focalors btw :)#also gonna be swapping between focalors/furina bc SOMEONE sent me a theory and it sent me spiraling im gonna be ill #u know who u r and ur days r numbered #can be read as romantic between reader & neuvi but only bc i know focalors rubs it in his face she found the actual creator first #anyway can u tell focalors is my fav pt2 i wont shut up abt her its terminal atp #focalors..................#anyway *doesnt post fr months. randomly drops a 2k word fic. leaves and doesnt elaborate*#starts out v serious ends v silly #wrote this in one sitting im gonna go pass out now gn

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the-genius-az · 20 days

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What would have happened if Azula had had an illness in the series?

Tuberculosis.

Tuberculosis is a very old disease, BC in fact. And let's assume that in Atla they also have that disease or similar.

And honestly it wouldn't be unusual for a royal to have a serious illness.

Anyway, it occurred to me just when I saw the movie where the Leper King appears, and then I thought of Azula, but with another illness. And I thought about my dad and my older brother who had tuberculosis, (They were cured, they are completely healthy now).

In Atla, I think Azula contracted the disease before going to war, I don't know how, maybe when she escaped from the palace and visited a place with poor people or something.

And she didn't know until she went to find Zuko and Iroh, and a doctor checked her (Lo and Li made her go to make sure she didn't have a broken bone after her fall) and that's when she found out she had tuberculosis.

Out of fear, Azula hid all evidence of her illness, saying that the reason she coughs is because she contracted the flu after falling into the water. She was able to do so for a while until Mai and Ty Lee discovered it in Ba sing se when they saw her coughing up blood.

#azula #mai #ty lee #zuko #iroh #lo and li #atla #avatar: the last airbender #Tuberculosis #terminal illness at that time #or not?#Katara: 👀#Possible Maizulee or Azutara #why not both?#maizulee #azutara #translator #traducción #Azula with tuberculosis au

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hypnogogyc · 1 year

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Could we possibly get more information about this Frankenstein AU? 👉👈 You have me intrigued

YESS Tldr under cut

Oliver is a scientist who works on a project that he discovers will not finish until much after his death. He has a mental breakdown but is so swept up in progress and the push for the bigger picture that Oliver decides fuck it i will science so good and well that i never have to do anything else again to be a respected scientist. Mike was recently murdered and now that he's over his initial reaction where he blackmails Oliver's reputation for freedoms but after oliver is like sounds good ^^ to everything they become buddies. Oliver figures out the bigger picture is to be happy and decides to change his perspective. Mike seeks out his murderer with barely a shred of evidence

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mooncheese3 · 11 months

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yueliujiu anon here saying if ur too shy to answer my last ask -- it's ok! but also, if you have any more yueliujiu thoughts pls feel free to dump!! id love to hear them 🥺🥺🥺

OH MB MB THATS MB IT WASNT THAT I WAS SHY THAT TIME I JUST HAVENT BEEN CHECKING MY NOTIFS AT ALL LIKE

GNNGHAGGG MY BAD

ANYWHO HDNFN yeaa :DDD u are the anon in mermaid qijiu reblog :DDDD genuinely cant stop thinking about them now also im totally gonna join yqy weekend now that i have been made awareRAWGRH SPREADING THE YLJ AGENDA

thoughts on how lqg is so used to having a big family and how hes never worried about losing their support vs qijiu whose longest familial bond has only ever been each other and how they always worry about losing that so they try their damnest to tie themselves together (and this doesnt always translate well)

idk what theyll do about that i just know that hurts and it hurts good

but also small-town!sv au wherein yqy is the mayor, lqg is a newly transferred cop, and sqq is the local librarian & part-time language tutor (also a retired criminal investigator)

basically 'beyond evil' vibes where lqg is investigating a case gone cold, aka the qiu massacre thing. SO LIKE. hes following a lead everyone else deemed outlandish, but the thing is his instincts have never failed him before, and those instincts are telling him hes on the right path

it just so happens that path leads right to a little town up in the mountains, whose mayor is a charismatic man named yqy. yqy is kind, thoughtful, and just. he smooths problems out quickly and can manage many things at once. right beside yqy is sqq, the only flaw lqg can find in yqy

sqq is an acidic man. the mayors wrapped around the guy's finger and the mayor himself doesnt care; he knows too much, is what lqg thinks. lqg notices sqq's aversion to fire, notices how his stare lingers on flames that burn too close. he notices how sqq easily lockpicks the libarary's door when the rust in the lock finally overpowers the key, how sqq seems to be hated by all yet is frequently hired by the parents who gossip about him. lmy tells him over the phone that if sqq really were the suspect, hed have been around 16 when the qiu massacre happened—isnt that too much?

despite agreeing with his sister, he cant shake the feeling that a teenage sqq would be capable of it

(SPOILER ALERT BC I CANT HELP IT SJ WASNT THE ONE WHO STARTED THE FIRE THAT KILLED EVERYONE--THO HE DID KILL A HANDFUL OF PEOPLE--IT WAS YQY. SQQ IS JUST COVERING UP FOR HIM AND PAINTING HIMSELF AS THE SOLE TARGET BC HE FEELS RESPONSIBLE FOR IT AND BC THATS HIS QIGE!!!!! NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO HURT HIM!!!!!!!!

additionally to sqq he feels that qht deserves to at least find peace in finally "figuring out" why her family died in such a horrible way and getting justice. she was innocent after all. so if that means he needs to rot in jail for the rest of his life he'll let lqg do his job and finally close the qiu case

yqy is less than pleased btw. he tries to take suspicions off of sqq but it just makes it worse)

idk how the plot goes i just need some enemies/you-can-tell-theres-tension-between-them-but-they-never-argue to lovers action

#yueliujiu #will lqg give into the qijiu pussy or will he give into his moral obligation as a cop #wild tag but thats just how we roll #btw yqy is terminally ill #in the au #oh and qht hired lqg #nyy and mf help out at the library #lbh works at a barbeque place #i just need him to sit all pretty and sweaty while he works the grill thats all #but i also need him to point lqg in the right direction at times bc he loathes sqq lol #YYX SHOWS UP AND LBH KIND OF FALLS FOR HIM HARD #messed up things happening in small towns never gets old

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meadow-hearthfire · 2 months

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Sentimental Veneer AU

What if Velvet and Veneer have a late father who was a lot like Floyd in terms of personality?

TRIGGER WARNING: DOMESTIC ABUSE, IMPLIED/REFERENCED TERMINAL ILLNESS/CANCER, IMPLIED/REFERENCED DEATH

Veneer would be more melancholy compared to his canon counterpart, and he handles Floyd much more gently.

At first, Veneer views Floyd similarly to how Velvet views him. That attitude starts to falter when Veneer notices similarities between his dad and Floyd.

What actually kick-starts Veneer's change of heart is when Floyd chides him and Velvet for mistreating Crimp and asked them if their parents raised them to behave that way.

While Velvet brushes Floyd off with a "you're not our dad", what Floyd said and the gentle yet firm way he chided Velvet and Veneer makes Veneer think about their father, whom he misses dearly, and the things his dad taught him and tried to teach Velvet.

Veneer also thinks about how he's been treating Crimp, so he apologizes to her and starts treating her nicer.

Out of guilt and shame, Veneer tries to help Floyd escape.

Veneer gets caught by Velvet who grabs Floyd, slaps Veneer, grabs him by the hair, slams him this way and that, and shouts him into submission.

Floyd, who just witnessed what Velvet put Veneer through, realizes the severity of the situation Veneer is in.

Floyd decides to stay to comfort and emotionally support Veneer, and get him to leave the abusive situation.

Floyd is not leaving until Veneer does.

When Veneer takes note of Floyd going pale and his hair turning white, and realizes he and Velvet are sucking the life out of him, Veneer is reminded of the times he visited his dad in the hospital. Veneer remembers seeing him going pale and his hair turning white from all the treatment he underwent.

As soon as Velvet leaves the room and is out of earshot, Veneer breaks down crying, uncorking the bottle and begging Floyd to leave this hell.

Floyd doesn't budge, insisting he's not leaving without Veneer.

Floyd is not leaving another kid behind.

Also, Veneer can sing really well in this AU without relying on Floyd's talent. He only spritzes himself to please Velvet.

#tw abuse #tw terminal illness #tw death #tw cancer #trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #trolls floyd #floyd trolls #trolls veneer #veneer trolls #trolls velvet #velvet trolls #floyd dory #sentimental veneer au

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adiduck · 9 months

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Six Sentence Sunday

This is... MUCH more than six sentences. This is an entire frickin' scene. But everyone was so enthusiastic about the time loop idea so I thought I'd give y'all some proof that your enthusiasm has kicked the bunny into hyperdrive ;)

#icemav #six sentence sunday #adi is a writer #the process #terminal illness implication #for the record I'm not going to kill Ice #that is not my Vibe #but ICE doesn't know that ;)#operation groundhog au

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cipherpurinina · 2 months

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Bluey Future AU: Bluey Headcanons

33 years old as of 2045

She/they

The only non-queer member (but still an ally) of her generation of the Heeler family

Married to neither Mackenzie and Jean-Luc, but a Lessinia and Lagorai Shepherd (Pastore della Lessinia e del Lagorai) named Smudge

Mackenzie and Jean-Luc were best men at her wedding

Lives in an apartment on Warren Street in Fortitude Valley with an interior color of red.

Tradie (specifically Aircraft Maintenance Engineer)

Works at Brisbane Airport

Nearly died to canine distemper at age 10, Has minor neurological issues (particularly winking and chewing gum fit tics), PTSD, and chronic pain as a result of said distemper

Has implant dentures for some teeth due to having said post-distemper hypoplastic natural teeth removed

Epileptic

Type 1 diabetic

Is on a Mediterranean diet (since they were 10)

Has 1 child, an 8-year-old Pastoreeler named Stripe (after her late uncle).

Can speak French fluently

Has a sense of humor similar to Vinesauce Joel

Takes CBD oil

Swears too much for her own good

Favorite animal is a raccoon

Likes bushwalking (hiking)

Owns a Soviet Panamka hat gotten from a thrift store, didn't really know the significance

Furry (which is kinda ironic, being that she’s an anthropomorphic dog)

Worst nightmare is dying to SUDEP

Went to university to become a writer, but became dissatisfied with their work and constantly plagued with writer’s block, dropped out, and went to trade school instead

Forklift certified

Flying fox otherhearted

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anotherrosesthatfell · 5 months

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Well I am in the hospital now but I can't stay since my parents are out to overseas (image going to a vacation leaving your children alone 💀)

#no longer the guardian #undertale au #who say terminally ill person can't draw #killer sans #dream sans #passive nightmare sans #corrupted nightmare sans #June Keira #July Keira #I drew this at tuition 💀#wattpad #ao3 #story #lazy art #decembertale #december

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sickficideas · 6 months

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we don't have any evidence that Beast Akutagawa is also suffering from a lung disease and i have my own suspicions about that but my suspicions aside...the slow burn whump as Beast Akutagawa's symptoms start to manifest. The fatigue and shortness of breath come first, Kunikida scolds him for not getting enough sleep, Oda is concerned it's unrelated so he keeps a close eye on him. The cough isn't noticed immediately because it's not constant, just every now and then, like his throat is dry. Junichiro always offers him water and Akutagawa takes it even when it doesn't help, so Junichiro is the first to notice it isn't going away. Junichiro is there the first time Akutagawa coughs up blood and he immediately knows something's wrong, when he calls Yosano for help she won't say it but she knows it too 💔 Akutagawa is so out of it, just staring at the bright red in his palm. He knows that's not right, he's hearing Gin in his head telling him it's because he never took good enough care of his health, he always put the group first. And now something's really wrong and he doesn't know where she is, he can never tell her 💔

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saintseiya-thoughts · 5 months

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Bronze Saints positions if they were in a kpop group or something this came to me in a fever dream (reminder for non kpop stans, position go main > lead > sub)

Visual is like, the pretty one, and maknae is the youngest, it's not exactly a position I like Seiya being the youngest ‼️

Also I tried to go with the vibe, tbf I have no idea what I'm doing except having fun...I don't even know if it's an actual AU or anything. I say kpop but idol group is probably more accurate idk ??? Do other idols group have positions like this ?? There's this french group with big inspirations from kpop but isn't actually a kpop group who has positions like this so idk I guess it's something like this !!! 😭 this is just a silly post...

Seiya - Main vocalist, sub rapper, maknae

Shiryu - Main dancer, lead rapper, leader because let my have my leader Shiryu dreams

Hyôga - Lead dancer, lead rapper, maybe sub vocalist ?? Idk, but he gives an all rounder vibe kinda

Shun - Visual, lead vocalist, sub dancer

(Ikki would be a manager sorry, no way you'll see him dance and sing on scene he's not giving idol AT ALL)

#sorry for being terminally ill (a kpop stan)#LISTEN TO NOBODY BY SOYEON WINTER AND LIZ IT'S A BANGER ‼️‼️#this content caters to me and me only i also have hcs about photocards. autism be damned #i wish i could share this to a 35yo straight guy saint seiya fan honestly that'd kill him on the spot #kotz #knights of the zodiac #cygnus hyoga #andromeda shun #phoenix ikki #dragon shiryu #saint seiya au #pegasus seiya #if this leaves my target audience lowkey like the dance post i'll lose my marbles please #I KNOW 67 NOTES ISN'T BIG BUT FOR ME IT IS especially when i thought it'd flop since it's really random

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sharoscylla · 11 months

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Where The Heart Is: The Long Goodbye 2

Part 3: Priorities

PREV || NEXT

#fanart #rottmnt #where the heart is au #where the heart is: the long goodbye #where the heart is: the long hello #fan comic #turtles deserve an aunt ripley #rottmnt future donnie #rottmnt future Casey sr #terminal illness #dying parent #death #they love each other #she’s one of his oldest friends #he’s one of her only friends #he thought he’d have more time

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the-genius-az · 17 days

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Tuberculosis Au.

After Mai and Ty Lee learn that Azula has tuberculosis, they try to keep her alive as long as they can. They both cannot bear the idea of Azula dying, they always thought that the princess was almost immortal, invincible, unstoppable, they were wrong.

Mai makes tea all the time, to soothe Azula's throat so she doesn't get hurt, and she always forces her to take painkillers for the pain, she doesn't want her to suffer. And she marvels that Azula does everything she tells her, she didn't think she would see her so submissive to her.

Ty Lee always has tissues, to clean Azula's blood herself, even though she knows it's dangerous, she just wants to feel Azula being taken care of. She also prepares food for her, although she knows that Azula has no appetite due to the illness, she insists that she eat, and Azula does, not because she needs it, but because it was Ty Lee who prepared it.

#Azula #Mai #Ty Lee #Maizulee #atla #avatar the last airbender #azula x ty lee x mai #azula x mai #azula x ty lee #mai x ty lee #azula sick au #Azula with tuberculosis au #terminal illness at that time #or not?#katara: 👀#azutara?#translator #traductor

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yaksha-lover · 2 years

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This AU got me thinking about this, what if Reader has a very serious illness? I'll divide this into two categories:.

1. Their illness can be cured but it takes a lot of money and time, although it takes a lot of time, but at least they are well taken care of in some way.

2. Their illness is incurable and they don't have much longer to live. But it's up to everyone to become a vampire or not,accept becoming a vampire to live a long life or refuse and die in peace?They might die in happy,peace and sadness but also they know before they die, they are not lonely because they lived and enjoyed such happy memories until the end.

cw: terminal illness, reader death, grieving

1. Whether you were being kept at the mansion or stayed there willingly, Lilia would get you the best care possible. He can afford any expensive treatment, and would go to any lengths to help you be comfortable in the extended period of time. Plus, your friends would help in any way they could, they would take your care very seriously. Epel will stay with you if you’re bedridden, bringing you whatever you need and trying to entertain you. Ace and Deuce will hang around too, and while Ace focuses more on trying to make you laugh, Deuce is a very diligent caretaker, fussing over you. Jack won’t let you lift a finger to do anything, he’ll gladly take care of it for you, and he’ll also be the one to kick the others out for you to sleep or have alone time.

The other residents would take time to come to see you too. Idia actually leaves his room for once to bring his consoles to your room so you can game together. Jade and Floyd would stop by, and while you might be wary of them at first, you’ll find that they’ll be uncharacteristically gentle with you. They’ll bring you food from the Mostro Lounge (still Azul’s restaurant in this au), whatever you’ve been craving. You’ll witness the rare sighting of Leona awake when him in Ruggie come to bring your newly designated therapy cats. On days when you want both company and quiet, Riddle will bring you a book he’s picked out for you, and sit by your side while you read together. If you don’t have the energy that day, he’s happy to read aloud to you. Rook would bring you fresh flowers he’s gathered himself every day, citing that he wishes to brighten up your room. He’d also make sure to keep remarking about your beauty, especially when he can tell you don’t feel your best. Kalim comes too, and with his endless smiles and positivity, it’s easy for you to forget about everything going on for a while.

2. If your illness was incurable, Lilia would take you aside and ask you if you’d like him to turn you. It would be the most serious you’ve ever seen him before, but he would mean it earnestly. No tricks or teases, he wants you to know the option is there if you want it. Either way, he’ll respect your choice, and he understands that living as a vampire isn’t for everyone. Lilia knows there’s countless reasons you wouldn’t want to continue on that way. If you chose not to become a vampire, everyone would do what they could to make your last days happy ones. They would do their best to make sure you knew how loved you were. It would be very hard on your friends, especially Epel and Ace who don’t understand why you won’t choose to live as a vampire, but they would put aside their feelings to make the most out of the time you have left. They will come to understand eventually, it’s just hard for them to accept that you’re gone. Malleus is stuck between his grief and understanding that even if you became a vampire, your lifespan is would never have matched his and you still would’ve left him far too soon.

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rainbow-flavoured-skittles · 2 months

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Hey Mom, Dead Mom

Chapter 1: I’m a bunch of broken pieces, it was you who made me whole

it is here! I know I said there would be a sneak peek but there was less editing to be done than I expected ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

the title is from the Beetlejuice musical’s song ‘Dead Mom’ because it just fits Cole so perfectly. the chapter titles are from that song as well. this one is pretty heavy, since it’s about Lilly dying and Cole being neglected. so tw for hospitals, terminal illness, child neglect, alcohol use, and major character death. this fic is not the happiest thing I’ve written. cross posted on ao3, everything is under the cut to be safe

Mom had been very sick lately.

Cole looked up at his dad. “Is she gonna be okay?” He asked. Mom had just gone to the hospital again — she’d started coughing, and the ambulance had taken her when she collapsed. It was the second time this month it’d happened.

Dad pursed his lips. “Yes, Cole,” he said. “She’ll be fine after some rest,”

“Can we see her?”

“Not right now, she’s sleeping. Maybe later,”

Cole tried not to frown. Mom had been doing that a lot lately — sleeping, going to the doctor, ending up in hospital. Both her and Dad said she was just sick, and that she’d be better soon, but it didn’t seem to be true. In fact, Cole was pretty sure she’d gotten worse.

“Okay,” he finally responded. “I’m gonna go walk around,”

Dad nodded and went back to the newspaper.

The hospital was very cold and smelled like antiseptic. All the hallways were identical, and Cole got dizzy trying to navigate. The fluorescent lights seemed unnecessarily harsh. Cole hated everything about it. A couple people gave him strange looks as he passed by, but Cole couldn’t be bothered to care. He missed his mom. He hated this place and wanted to go home, wanted to go back to before this had happened. Before Mom had gotten sick and Dad had started being so distant.

One of the nurses stopped him when he tried to get on the lift. “Where are your parents?” She asked.

Cole did his best to look the part of a kid who had just gotten lost, which was not wrong. “My dad’s waiting for Mom to wake up, and I’m looking for the washroom,” he said.

The nurse gave him a pitying look. “Is your mom sick?”

“Yes,”

“I’m very sorry about that,” she said. “But you can’t wander around on your own. I’ll help you get back to your dad,”

Cole did not respond.

“Where were you earlier?” The nurse looked at him.

Cole shrugged. He didn’t really know where they had been waiting for Mom to wake up, just that it was on this floor.

“Was it the waiting room?”

“Maybe,” Cole mumbled.

The nurse sighed a little. “We’ll check there first,”

She grabbed Cole’s wrist and lead him to the waiting room, where sure enough, Cole’s dad was sitting and reading the papers.

“He’s over there,” Cole pointed at his dad. “I can go now,”

“Alright then,” the nurse said. “Hope your mom gets better,” She patted him on the shoulder and walked off.

Mildly annoyed that he’d been brought back to his father, Cole plopped down on the seat next to him. He swung his legs and hummed until his dad snapped and turned to him. “What is it, Cole?” He frowned.

“Will Mom be out soon?” Cole looked up at his dad.

“No,” Dad said in a firm voice, like there was no room for argument. “The doctors will tell us when she can come home.”

“But when will that be?”

Dad sighed wearily. “I don’t know, Cole,”

Cole stared down at the floor. It was white, speckled with grey and red. Or maybe it was green. Those two colours were very similar.

Either way, it was both easier to look at and more interesting than his dad’s frowning face. Maybe he could count the little flecks on it, though that seemed like a lot. And it wasn’t particularly fun.

Cole would ask if he could play with his dad’s phone, but Dad was in such a bad mood the that he didn’t want to try. Cole could understand why he wasn’t happy, though. He didn’t want Mom to be sick any more than Dad did.

All too soon and yet still not soon enough, they were told to leave. “I’m sorry, sir, but visiting hours are over. You’ll have to come back tomorrow,” the nurse had said as she shooed them out the door. Cole and his dad walked out and got into the car in silence. It was already dark out, and the streetlights were on. Cole counted them as they drove past — one, two, three, four…

Dad parked the car and they walked into the house. Cole didn’t dare talk, instead going upstairs to brush his teeth and go to bed. Dad probably wouldn’t have made dinner anyways. He was too busy and stressed for that. If Cole got hungry, he’d just eat some chips or something.

Cole jumped onto the bed and turned off the lights. His yellow sunflower nightlight glowed in the corner, bathing the room in a dim light. He could hear Dad downstairs talking on the phone. It was pretty loud, but Cole closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

The next morning brought rain and clouds, like even the weather was unhappy about Mom’s hospitalisation. Cole woke up well into the morning and dragged himself out of bed. He ate breakfast and went back upstairs, expecting to be alone in the house, but when he passed Dad’s office he could hear faint crying.

Cole frowned. That was weird, there shouldn’t be anyone else in the house right now.

Cole knocked on the door. “Dad?” He said.

The door swung open and Dad stepped out looking dishevelled and tired. He looked down at his son and sighed. “Hello, Cole,”

“What’s going on? Why are you sad?” The answer to the latter question was obvious — Moon was sick, after all, but Cole wanted to make sure.

Dad put a hand to his forehead and gestured for Cole to come in. “Cole, son, we need to talk,”

That didn’t bode well. It was never good if an adult told you ‘we need to talk.’ It meant getting in trouble and screaming and lots of crying. “Talk about what?” Cole’s throat felt dry and scratchy.

“Y— you know your mother is sick, right?” Dad said.

A sense of cold dread crept up Cole’s spine. “Yeah?”

“She’s not getting better,” Dad said softly. Tears streamed down his face. “She’ll be staying at the hospital permanently now,”

Cole knew a lot of big words. ‘Permanently’ was one of them. It didn’t mean anything good in this situation. “She’s not coming home?”

Dad nodded his head grimly. “Yes, that’s right,”

“No!” Cole screamed. “Why can’t she stay?”

“She’s too sick to come back, and the hospital is able to take care of her,” Dad tried to explain, but Cole shut it out. Mom wasn’t coming home. She’d be stuck at the hospital forever. They’d never again go hiking or have picnics or read stories together, because she was sick and they couldn’t do anything about it.

“It’s not fair,” Cole cried into his dad’s arms.

“It isn’t,” Dad hugged him tightly, but it wasn’t a happy hug. It was the kind of hug you give people when they’re sad and there’s nothing you can do.

Weeks passed and Mom got worse. The doctors hooked her up to a bunch of machines, ones that made beeping noises and scared Cole. She didn’t talk much, not anymore. Most of the time she just laid there and slept. Dad spent most of his time away from the house visiting Mom and crying. On the days that Cole was able to come along, he sat on the bed and read to Mom until they had to leave. She couldn’t always hear him, but on the days she was awake she’d listen to him and smile. There weren’t nearly enough of those days.

Today was one of those days, thankfully. But it still wasn’t a good day. Cole had gotten into trouble at school — there was a bully hurting the other kids, and Cole had gotten so angry. He’d pushed the bully and they had gotten into a fight. It ended with both of them on the floor and bleeding, and the principal was yelling at them and Dad was so disappointed and now Cole was suspended for a week.

“Hi, honey,” Mom smiled. She opened her arms for a hug.

“Mom!” Cole jumped onto the bed and hugged his mother. He wasn’t allowed to do that, but he didn’t care right now because Mom was awake and even though she was probably disappointed in him he just needed a hug. “I don’t want you to be sick anymore,”

“I know, Pumpkin,” Mom said, and how had Cole ever been embarrassed by that nickname? He’d give anything to hear Mom call him that more often now. “But we don’t always get what we want, do we?”

Mom pulled away from the hug and looked Cole in the eyes. “Your father said you got into trouble at school,”

Cole blinked back the tears from his eyes. “Yeah, but it wasn’t my fault!”

“What happened?”

“There’s this kid, and he’s always picking on the other kids, and—“

“And you got in a fight,” Mom finished for him.

Cole didn’t make eye contact with his mom. He looked at the wall instead as he said, “I’m sorry, Mom. It won’t happen again, I promise. I’ll make you proud,”

“Oh, Cole,” Mom said, and Cole braced himself for the inevitable ‘I’m so disappointed,’ but it never came. “Don’t you see? I’m already proud of you,”

Mom took his hand. “I want you to promise me, Cole, that you will always stand up to those who are cruel and unjust. Always,” she hugged him as tightly as she could while being bed bound.

“I promise, Mom. Always,” Cole said as he hugged her back. That was a promise he intended to keep.

Half a year went by before they got the news. Cole was at school when it happened — he hadn’t been able to say goodbye. Mom had flatlined. She was gone forever. Cole had known it was coming for months by then, had known their time was limited, but that didn’t stop the hurt. The funeral was in two weeks, two weeks to pull himself together and say his final goodbyes. It seemed like too short of a time.

Cole went home early, picked up by his dad. They were silent for the entire time, up until they reached home and Cole broke down. He sobbed into his dad’s arms until night fell, Dad crying along with him. They fell asleep on the couch that night.

Two weeks passed by in a blur, all the days blending together. Cole didn’t go to school for those weeks; he wouldn’t have been able to handle it. Dad let him help with some of the funeral preparations. It made Cole feel better to help, to show Mom he cared even if he hadn’t been there during her final moments. When Dad asked him what flowers they should have, he said sunflowers. Mom’s name may have been Lilly, but her favourite plant had always been sunflowers. “Because they’re all bright and cheerful, like you,” she used to say to Cole. Cole didn’t feel very cheerful these days. More miserable and depressed.

On the day of the funeral, it was bright and sunny. Cole loathed that. How dare the weather be so happy when Mom was dead? She was the most amazing person in the realm, and now she was gone.

“— was an incredible person. She was a wife, a mother, a daughter. She touched the lives of everyone here, and it is a tragedy that she was taken so soon.” Someone was speaking up on the podium. The funeral officiant, giving a generic speech that didn’t show how caring and generous and simply wonderful Mom was.

Dad had already spoken. He’d talked about how he met Mom, how he loved her so much and missed her. There had been a few others who spoke, friends or distant relatives that Cole didn’t really know. They all offered their condolences and gave Cole hugs he didn’t want.

Dad squeezed his hand. Are you sure you don’t want to go? He seemed to be asking. Dad had asked Cole a week ago if he wanted to speak at the funeral. Cole had declined. He didn’t want to give a speech in front of people he’d never met before, and he couldn’t fit everything he wanted to say in a few minutes. Dad had seemed to understand, gave him a piece of paper and told him to write on that instead. They would leave the paper with the flowers. Cole thought it was much better than the speech.

The officiant said it was time to say their goodbyes, but Cole didn’t hear. He just followed Dad and waited until their turn. He didn’t say anything, unlike the others who attended. Dad helped him put the flower and letter onto the casket.

Cole watched as the line dwindled and everyone was done saying their final words. The casket was lowered into the ground. The hole was covered and then smoothed over. In less than an hour, Mom had been buried underground with all the dirt and bugs. There really was no more foolishly hoping this was a mistake. Mom was not coming back.

Cole spent the next few weeks out of school as well, staying at home in his room. Dad spent a lot of time at the gravesite and didn’t come home until night. They spent only dinners together, and those were dreary and lifeless. Mom’s death had left a gaping hole in their lives. Cole didn’t know how to fill it, as much as he wished he could.

Jay called a few times asking if Cole needed a friend. Cole said no. Jay ended every call with a “you know where to find me if you need it.” Cole didn’t think he deserved Jay, honestly.

One evening Dad didn’t show up for dinner. He was always back by eight, always, but that day he wasn’t. Cole spent the entire night waiting and fell asleep at the table.

The next few days were exactly like that night. Dad went out before Cole was even awake and didn’t come back until after midnight. Every time he came back he was drunk and collapsed on the couch, leaving Cole to take care of himself. Cole hated that. Even during the worst parts of Mom’s illness, he hadn’t been completely alone. Now there was no one else to rely on. How was it possible that things had gotten worse?

When school started again Cole made a schedule. He’d spent almost an entire month away and needed to do a lot of catching up, so it was very tight. Wake up at six in the morning and eat breakfast. Walk to school because Dad can’t drive you anymore, and make sure to pack your own lunch. Once school is over walk back and do homework. Vacuum the house every Wednesday and do laundry twice a week. Dishes have to be done after every meal. Grocery shopping once a week on Sundays and dusting on Saturday.

The schedule was broken one day when Dad came home early. Cole had just gotten home from school and was doing his homework when he heard the front door unlock. That was strange, he thought. Nobody was visiting today. Nobody ever visited.

“COLE!” Dad’s voice yelled, and he sounded ridiculously angry. Cole flinched and wondered if he should hide. “GET DOWN HERE NOW!”

No use hiding, then. Cole crept down the stairs and faced his dad. Dad’s face was red and blotchy, but he wasn’t swaying. That was good. He wasn’t drunk, hadn’t spent the entire night partying.

“Do you care to explain why you haven’t been attending dance lessons?” Dad growled.

Dance lessons? Cole hadn’t gone to those since before Mom’s death. “I didn’t realise I was supposed to,” he said.

“You are a Brookstone. Dancing is in your blood. Why wouldn’t you have lessons?”

“I haven’t gone to them since Mom…”

Dad’s frown deepened. “You will be going to lessons from now on, five days a week.”

Cole didn’t have the energy to argue. “Okay,” he mumbled.

“Good. Have you done your homework?”

“I was doing it just now.”

“Alright, then. I have a meeting with the other Blacksmiths. You can take care of dinner?”

I’ve been taking care of everything for months! Cole wanted to scream. But he didn’t. He just nodded and stood there like the good son he was supposed to be.

Dad nodded stiffly and went back out the door. At least he didn’t seem as angry now, though Cole would have to adjust the schedule. Maybe laundry once a week instead of twice, and vacuuming would have to be on Saturdays. He sighed and went to go find his notebook. This would be a pain to figure out.

School and dance lessons were hell. Cole’s classmates ignored him as always and the teachers hated him. The dance instructors were no better, yelling when he couldn’t get a move right and saying he wasn’t good enough. Dad spent slightly more time at home — Cole was pretty sure that the Royal Blacksmiths had pulled him out of the alcohol bottles. He still ignored Cole, though, and got angry when he brought home a bad grade.

“Why can’t you at least try? You used to get such good grades!” Dad had ranted one night. “You were so smart, what happened?”

Those rants always hurt so much. Cole was trying, he really was. It was just so hard when he was juggling school and dance lessons and talking care of the whole house and his grief for Mom.

Of course, the fights didn’t help either. Cole got into a lot of them nowadays, sometimes because a classmate threw the first punch or because they were being a bully. They always ended with at least one black eye and a lecture from Dad. Sometimes he got suspended, or threatened with expulsion.

Dad finally gave up on him when the school called and said he was ‘impertinent, unable to focus, and a delinquent.’ Cole didn’t know what half those words meant, but he got the basic idea: he was a problem. A mistake that needed to be corrected. A good for nothing mess of a human being. All that was confirmed when five words fell from his dad’s lips, five words that brought the little stability he had crashing down.

“You’re going to boarding school.”

“Boarding school?” Cole repeated dully. The words didn’t make sense to him, couldn’t seem to form a proper sentence.

“Boarding school,” Dad confirmed. “Marty Oppenheimer’s School of Performing Arts, to be exact. They will help you with performing, obviously, and hopefully correct some… recent issues.”

“You want to send me to prison, basically,” Cole muttered.

“Don’t take that tone with me, Cole. MOSPA is a wonderful opportunity. I went there, as well as your mother.”

“Is it because this school wants me gone?”

Dad tapped his cane sharply. “This was always the plan, Cole. As soon as you got to middle school we’d send you there. Things just got a little delayed.”

“What kind of prestigious school like that would take me?” Cole snarked.

“I was one of their best students,” Dad said. He got a dreamy look in his eyes. “They couldn’t say no to teaching the next generation of Brookstones, not when you could be the next big hit.”

“Do I get a choice in this?”

“No,” Dad said, and that sealed Cole’s fate.

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writersmorgue · 3 months

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Febuwhump Day 6 - "you lied to me"

I may have shed a tear while writing this one.

This is a fantasy AU!! No teacher/student!!

TWs in tags || read on Ao3 || wc: 971

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As much as he tried to run away, Izuku had pulled him in like a magnet. They had fallen hard and fast for each other, faster than Shouta had in any of his lifetimes.

The time came to confess his truth, to finally break off their relationship and part ways. It would be easier this way, Shouta could let Izuku live on in his memory, young and vibrant as he was.

But Izuku always did love ruining Shouta’s plans.

“Shouta, it’s okay. I- I am too.”

He didn’t think he’d ever felt such a feeling before. Was it relief? Distress, maybe… Hope.

“Why… why didn’t you say anything?” He examined Izuku’s face, trying to wring out any deceit.

His lover shrugged, smiling. The barely-there crow's feet made an appearance as he nuzzled into Shouta’s hand.

“Probably for the same reason as you. I wanted to protect this. It wouldn’t work if one of us was mortal and the other…”

Shouta frowned, “I know most of the other immortals in the area, I can’t believe I never noticed you.” he swiped Izuku’s freckled cheek with his thumb.

“I’ve…” Izuku sighed, “I’ve had a tough life, Shouta. I’m just grateful that I now get to spend the rest of it with you.”

Eternity… he doesn’t say.

Truly, Shouta should’ve known it was too good to be true.

He let himself believe that it was possible, that the universe had finally granted him some sort of reprieve.

Maybe it was his desperation that led him to ignore the signs. Izuku’s aging, his spirit, his beauty.

Living for as long as Shouta had, you would lose your mind a little more with each passing decade. Cursed immortals like him don’t receive the blessing of death, but rather gradual insanity.

It was all good, all wrong.

Not two years later, it all came crashing down.

Izuku had begun looking tired and lethargic. His smile was strained and his movements painful. Shouta had insisted he go to the healer, ignoring the blaring alarm in his head that screamed this was wrong. He should be regenerating faster than his ailment could harm him.

“Shouta, don’t worry.” He brushed off every time he showed concern. “I’m fine, they can’t help.”

There was something he wasn’t telling him.

Weeks later, Izuku had awoken sometime in the night, and he hadn’t returned. After Shouta lay there unable to rest for some time, he threw the covers off of his bed and trudged into the dark of the house.

He found Izuku curled around the toilet, sitting in a pool of sweat and vomit.

Immediately he leaped into action, gathering the shivering man into his arms and lifting him. Izuku clung to his shoulders, whimpering at the movement.

He rushed them to the nearest healer, doing his best to keep Izuku conscious throughout the trip.

The old woman on duty took one look at Izuku and sighed, waving at Shouta to come through to the back.

They put him on an open cot, and Shouta immediately forewent the waiting bench, kneeling beside Izuku on the dirt.

“Shit, you’ve gotta tell me what’s going on, Izuku. Please, I know you’re hiding something. Is your curse doing this to you? I don’t understand…”

“Love,” Izuku smiled, motioning for Shouta’s hand. He complied, holding the smaller hand in his own. Izuku’s body had always been small, almost dangerously so, but Shouta chalked it up to genetics. He never met Izuku’s family, assuming they’d passed decades or even centuries ago, like his own.

But now, with the moonlight pouring in through the window, illuminating Izuku’s translucent skin, he’s sure he had it all wrong.

He waited a moment, allowing Izuku to collect himself and breathe.

“There’s a letter… in my chest at home. I explain more…” He sighed, eyebrows quivering, “I can’t imagine I have much longer. I’ve already been lucky.”

“Izuku you’re…” acting as though you’re already dead. “You lied to me about being immortal,” Shouta finished, using all his power to stay strong until he got answers. But watching the tears swell in Izuku’s eyes nearly broke him.

“I’m sorry for deceiving you, Shouta. It was never with malicious intent, please believe me.” He took a shuddering breath, “I never had long for this life.”

Shouta brought Izuku’s hand to his forehead, feeling the cool skin and pressing a kiss into his wrist.

Shouta would never be angry at him, and he needed Izuku to know, but he wouldn’t dare interrupt him now.

“I knew you were cursed when we met all those years ago. I knew I was dying then, too.” Izuku explains, nodding to the woman when she brought him another pillow to prop himself on. “As much as I knew it would hurt, I was selfish. I fell in love with you, and I knew you would leave if I was honest. I just…” He sobs, caressing Shouta’s face.

Shouta shakes his head, allowing his burning eyes to well, “Izuku you don’t need to justify yourself. I’m so grateful for the time we’ve had together. If I’d have known… I would’ve spent every waking moment treasuring you.”

Izuku chuckled, “You couldn’t possibly make me feel more loved than I already have. My time with you was the happiest of my life. I’ve been alone for so many years, and though it was greedy, I didn’t want to feel that loneliness in death. I know you’ll always be with me, just like I’ll always be with you, Shouta.”

He pulled himself up onto Izuku’s cot and took the man into his arms.

“I love you more than anything, Izuku.” He murmurs, pressing kisses into Izuku’s crown.

“Not more than I love you,” Izuku whispers back.

He took his last breath with a sleepy smile on his face.

Forever young, just like Shouta.

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 1 year

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Lena's Mercy (another black mercy fic)

Warning: mentions of suicide

Lena is tired.

She has been ever since the shock has worn off. Receiving her diagnosis on the tail end of discovering her life has been just one lie after another had been unexpected. But the blessing is that it will be swift.

She can already feel it-- the fatigue that wraps around her bones and weighs her down, the lingering cough that now brings up speckles of blood. Pounds shed from her by the day, and every time she looks in the mirror the heavy circles under her eyes grow darker. She's been able to hide it thus far, but it won't be long before even that will be beyond her. There's nothing she can do to halt the disease working its way through her system-- not in the little time she has left.

So Lena finds herself going to the last place she ever thought she'd go.

Lex's bunker greets her as coldly as her mother. Her footsteps echo as she strides towards the solitary scanner console. A dozen pricks across her palm and the console beeps, and the floor before her lifts with a hiss.

When the gate slides open to admit her, Lena walks straight past the warhammer, Lex's suit of kryptonite.

She draws to a stop in front of a clear containment case, and the sight of its occupant sends a flood of relief through Lena's exhausted body. The black mercy within coils and shifts, as though sensing her desperation, her readiness.

There's no other itemd here that tempts her: she has no intention of harming Supergirl. Lena's anger has faded in the face of her new fate-- it's meaningless, in the grand scheme-- but a small part of can't deny that she relishes the devastation she knows her former friend will feel upon realizing Lena is gone without the chance to say goodbye.

As though summoned by Lena's thoughts, just as her hand reaches for the latch of the containment device, a whoosh of displaced air announces Supergirl's arrival.

"What are you doing here?"

Kara's voice is sharp and authoritative, riling for a fight until she sees exactly where Lena's attention lies. Then, more gently, fearfully even-- "what are you doing?"

"Exactly what it looks like."

"Lena, no, you don't understand-- it may conjure a fantasy, but only so that it can drain the life from you..."

Lena exhales. That's exactly what she's hoping for, but for a different reason than the conclusion Kara jumps to a moment later.

"Please don't do this," the hero blurts in a rush, eyes brimming with tears. "Please, I'm sorry, okay? I'm so, so sorry. I'll say it every day until you believe me, just please-- don't do this."

Unable to muster the effort to keep herself from doing so, the corner of her mouth lifts into the tiniest, softest of smirks.

"One of these days, Supergirl," she says softly, "you'll realize that this world doesn't revolve around you."

Silence drifts between them, stale and thin. Lena feels the hero's gaze on her, studying. Can her x-ray vision spot the disease inside her?

"Lena," Kara says slowly. "What's going on?"

Then, as she continues to piece through the puzzle--

"You're sick."

Lena says nothing.

"This isn't the answer," Kara continues. She takes a step towards her, entering the vault proper.

"I'll be the judge of that."

"Suicide? No! I refuse to accept this is your only option. We can get you through this--!"

"There is no we," Lena snaps. She glares at her former friend, finally deigning to meet her gaze. "You have yourself to thank for that."

But just as swiftly, the irritation dissipates.

"Do you know what my fantasy will look like?" she asks softly.

She hears Kara inhale, an argument catching on her tongue. But then she deflates. "Tell me."

"Not a long life. I don't need that. I'll still be dying, but with dignity. With love. From all of the people who should have been there from the start. My brother, my father... even Lillian. Even--" Lena's breath catches on a sob. "Even my mom."

She swallows painfully around the lump in her throat, her chest tight. There haven't been any tears yet, and she isn't about to start now. But even as she makes the vow she feels the tears drop from her eyelashes.

"They'll-- they'll tell me that they're proud of me. That they'll stay with me-- until the end."

Her voice drops to a rasping whisper.

"That would be enough," she chokes out, a sob chasing on its heels. A hiccup follows, and the tears start to flood. They won't stop, and her breath comes sharper and sharper...

Suddenly, warm arms turn her around and envelop her. Lena returns the hug reflexively, and once there her arms refuse to unclench. She sobs into Kara's shoulder, letting the scent of sunshine and coconut shampoo wash over her.

"What about me?" Kara murmurs when Lena's tear ebb. She doesn't loosen her hug in the slightest. "Will I be there?"

Lena swallows, clenching her eyes shut. "I don't know," she whispers. "Will you?"

"Yes." There's not a sliver of hesitation. "I'll be with you every step of the way."

Lena's chest tightens, and her arms squeeze tighter around Kara. Kara's arms tighten gently in kind.

"I'm not going anywhere."

#supercorp #angst #mention of suicide #black mercy au #terminal illness au

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