What if Dess (Dess knight theory) and/or Kris were fatally/chronically ill.
Dess is Rudy's kid, so if its genetic she could have gotten it too. Adding to that noelle is spending a lot of her with her Dad, maybe because she (thinks) she lost her sister.
And maybe Kris took the soul because they needed to physically, not just for whatever plan there is.
Different crazy theory: maybe Kris is fading because they took in the soul, kind of like us replacing them in their body. Maybe thats why Kris is using more agency, because they realize they don't want that to happen in later chapters.
Jessie's first thought when the news first broke a little over six months ago certainly wasn't that she would be in this position. She’d be lying though, if she said that this exact moment was not the second thought on her mind when she saw the newscast of the outbreak. Her first thought, of course, was the same as everyone else’s – what the actual fuck? And then her second thought was this: I have to find more insulin.
Ever since, she’s been thinking that exact thought over and over. Daily. I have to find more insulin.
She had called the pharmacy first. After waiting on hold for what seemed like an inordinate amount of time, she learned that she was not the only person having a similar fear. The pharmacy technician tried to reassure her that they would stay open as long as possible and supply whatever drugs they had on hand to the patients with long standing prescriptions on file with their facility. But Jessie was not an idiot. They would run out and quickly. Several calls later, she had learned that finding additional insulin was going to become near impossible. Her endocrinologist was giving out whatever samples she had and Jessie was welcome to some if she could make it to the office before some of the other patients. The big-name pharmacies and the manufacturers were handing out samples as well if she could make it there with medical records proving her diabetic status, but some of those places were days away.
So she had devised a plan. She would head to the grocery store first. It was located in a shopping center only two blocks from her house that also contained a vitamin shop. She would grab a little food, sure, but her main goal was the nutrition aisle. When she got there, it was a mad house. A sad little clerk stood confused in the center of the closed down checkout area pointlessly telling anyone who would listen to leave some things for other people. Jessie wasn’t sure why the overly stressed teenage boy was even trying. There were several people on the aisle she needed, but it wasn’t the swarm that some of the other aisles had. She had found an empty hand basket and grabbed as much as she could: Niacin, Vitamin E, Chromium, Glucose. On her way out she had been able to get some canned vegetables, but there wasn’t much else. The vitamin shop was only slightly less crowded, but got some things there also.
After dropping off her treasures in her apartment, she got into her car and drove to the pharmacy and then to the endocrinologist’s office. She had been able to get enough insulin to last about three months. She hoped her electricity would last that long. It didn’t. A week. It had lasted a week.
She packed up her car with her priceless possessions - food, a couple changes of clothes, her medication stash, a pillow and blanket, and a few photographs. If she couldn’t stay home, she’d go north. At least with summer coming, the temperatures would be milder and she may just last longer.
The gas in her car had lasted about 400 miles. She couldn’t see how she was going to get more since every gas station she had passed was dry. She had found an old shopping cart, loaded her things into it and started walking. Her doctor had always encouraged her to get more exercise, although she was sure this wasn’t what she meant.
She stuck to the populated roads. It would take longer sure, but there were more places to stop and more supplies to raid. At first, she saw quite a few people, but after a few weeks, there were fewer and fewer people to meet. She found random items here and there, a pocket knife and a tent, for example, but her main goal was insulin.
I have to find more insulin.
Day 192. I am having trouble catching my breath today. Insulin ran out four days ago. My legs don’t want to work as well and my feet hurt from all the walking. I almost didn’t break down my tent and stayed in my sleeping bag. I haven’t seen anyone or anything for a week. Just the trees. The road signs say that there is a town ahead. Maybe I can find a clinic to restock.
Day 194. My mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. My fingers and toes have swollen and I had trouble getting my boots on. Still no insulin. Still no town. Only the trees. My head is pounding and I started dry heaving. I feel hot all over even though the breezes are almost icy.
Day 195. I found the town. It’s so quiet. Like a ghost town in the old west. I found an urgent care and thankfully, it was open. The medicine stores are empty. It’s cooler in here though, so I’m going to stay a while. My legs hurt so bad. My toes are turning purple from my boots. My head feels like it’s going to explode and every muscle in my body is screaming. I just want to sleep. I’m so tired. And thirsty. And tired. Did I say tired already? I’m also very tired. I'm just going to rest my eyes for a few minutes. I need to find more Insulin.
ryan guzman? no, that’s just edmundo delgado-nichols you know, the 30 year old witch. who’s been known to be brave but impulsive. they’ve also been called the amicable for those exact reasons. i heard that they were one of the survivors; but who knows how long that will last once everyone finds out that they take part in underground fighting and likes to use magic/dark magic while fighting.
HISTORY
Eddie was born in Austin Texas to a single mother, his mom died just a few years after he was born and his grandmother took over full time with his care, raising him to be a loving, kind-hearted man. He met the girl he knew he wanted to marry almost straight out of high school, he was taking classes at a local college and fell for her pretty early, her name was Bea.
He took Bea out on a lot of dates before he got the courage to ask her to be his girlfriend officially. Then after dating for a year he asked her to marry him when he was 21 years old.
Of course she said yes and he at that time, thought that this was the start of his perfect ending. But he was wrong, shortly after he found out that Bea was pregnant, the thought of being a dad was exciting, even more exciting than the journey to marriage.
Soon he learned that Bea wasn’t as excited as he was, more specifically how terrified she was at the prospect of being a mother.
Throughout the entire pregnancy she seemed nervous, unsure of all the decisions they were making and towards the very end questioned if she was doing the right thing, getting married so young, having a baby.
Shortly after their son Mateo was born Bea left, she returned his ring and apologized before telling him what a great father he would be and then she ran.
A year into raising his son he met another woman, she needed a roommate and someone who was okay with a baby in the house and he was just happy to have someone else to help him with Mateo.
He learned their names were Sonya and Frederick, Frederick was only a few days old and Sonya was over her head trying to support herself and a son. So Eddie decided he’d help. He lived with Sonya for the next three years, with them raising their sons together.
Things were never romantic between them but he felt connected to her all the same, the day he learned she was sick he was pretty devastated. He promised he would do anything to help her and her family so a few weeks shy of her death when she asked if he would adopt Frederick, he said yes.
The adoption was finalized just a few days before she passed away in the hospital and Edmundo raised both of his boys alone.
When he met Oliver he was a bit shyer than he usually was, he supposed that after having Bea leave him and losing Sonya, he wasn’t ready to let someone else into his life, wasn’t ready to be met with more loss and disappointment.
It didn’t help that both of his sons were older then too, he didn’t want to introduce someone into their lives if the moment would just be fleeting.
It took Oliver a year to make Eddie crack and agree to be friends, then suddenly he was agreeing to marriage. Somewhere along the way he had fallen in love and he didn’t want to let Oliver go.
PERSONALITY
He’s honest, his grandmother raised him to be honest but caring, warning him to never overstep peoples boundaries. Remain in their comfort zone.
He’s playful, youthful at heart and loves to entertain children, especially his own.
HEADCANONS / OTHER FACTS
He’s an underground fighter who uses magic to his advantage
Features of The Fatal Illness Section of The Life’s Tragedies Mod
1:One need will switch to “Remaining Life” when the Sim is given the fatal disease, it’s a red meter on the right, the icon is a grey heart with a red line similar to a heartbeat on an EKG at the hospital.
2:They get a “Dying” moodlet, when hovered over it’ll tell you the Sim is living their last days (IE since I did this with my Sim of Arvis, I hovered over his “dying” moodlet and the blurb read “Arvis is living his last days. The best thing to do now is rest and say goodbye to loved ones.”)
3:When the “Remaining Life” is close to 0 (Which I liken to an EKG having an Agonal Heart Rhythm on it), you can choose for the dying Sim to die in another’s arms (It didn’t work at first, but on my second attempt, I managed to get Arvis to die in Sim Me’s arms).
4:The Sim dies of diease when their “Remaining Life’ is 0(or what I liken to an asystolic heart rhythm on an EKG), then the Grim Reaper comes to greet them.
5:The “Death Sting” for Death By Fatal Disease is also used for Death By Old Age in Elder Sims.
6:The “Dying” moodlet sticks around, even after the Sim infected with the Fatal Illness dies.
7:You can try to cure them via surgery, but it only has a 20% success rate, which means it has an 80% failure rate, Arvis got lucky when I sent him, he managed to get the 20% success rate for the surgery when he first got the illness, so when I gave it to him again, I refused to send him for the surgery.
8:You can say whatever disease you want caused their death(For Arvis, I declared his death to be due to the COVID-19 Pandemic, as his symptoms seemed to be like those of COVID-19 to me, for my Blackstar Sim, I decided his illness will be Cancer, so I removed his hair and dressed him in a hospital outfit.)
To test out the latest release of Life’s Tragedies by Sacrificial, I created my first Tragic family, Tragedy Emblem Part 1, as you can see, Arvis’s tragedy is Fatal Illness, his “Fun” Need changed to his “Remaining Life” gauge, note how the red line over the heart sorta resembles an EKG reading from the hospital? Well, this is because when it runs out, the line’ll go flat, known as Asystolic in a hospital setting, meaning he’ll be dead. The two chimes are...
1:Old Age Death Chime when the infected Sim discovers their disease
and
2:The Giving Birth chime if the surgery successfully cures them.
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Series Warnings: Fatal illness, character death, blood, canon violence, language, eventual smut, kidnapping.
Word Count: 1,579
Square Filled: Fatal Illness
Summary: The reader realizes that she may have made the wrong choice when the sickness she has been hiding gets worse. Both Sam and Dean seem to think something is up. What do you do when you make a life changing decision only to have everything turn upside down?
A/N: This is the first part of my SPN Angst Bing Card, hosted by @spnangstbingo. It will be seven parts, and the schedule has already been posted. It will post twice a week (Monday and Friday) until it wraps up.
It was beta’d by the ever fantastic and my writing soulmate @trexrambling: “I'm already seeing the sass and I LOVE IT”.
My beautiful twinny, @pinknerdpanda: “gah. how dare you. weaving cute and angsty moments together so seamlessly. rude.”
And my dear, sweet angel baby @masksandtruths: “Oh gahhhh this is already breaking my heart.”
Thanks to all three for helping a girl out so that her words make sense. I owe a lot to all of you.
As always, tags are at the bottom. If you’d like to be added, please let me know.
Now...
I feel the cold porcelain under my hands and taste the warm blood, metallic and bitter on my lips. Tired eyes stare back at me from a dirty, cracked mirror, narrowed against the harsh, flickering halogen light that is bathing everything in a sickly yellow hue. Everything seems magnified tenfold, and I grip the smooth sink tighter and try to stay grounded. I watch my tongue dart out and trace along my ruby red lips, and the metallic taste gets even stronger. I drop my gaze and stare at the crimson splashes that have disrupted the pure white sink as if they will somehow give me the answers to my questions.
This isn't a surprise. I guess as far as coughing up blood goes, it's surprising, but it was only a matter of time, and it's looking like time is up. This isn't how it was supposed to go. I had...have...a plan. It isn't a great one, but that’s by design. The knocking on the door reminds me that even the best laid plans, the ones where you should be allowed to go out in a blaze of glory and leave nothing behind, can unravel in an instant.
One Year Earlier…
I can’t breathe. Actually, it’s more of a ‘I’ve forgotten how to breathe’ situation rather than a ‘I physically can’t breathe because something is preventing it’, but still, I can’t breathe. I should probably be panicking, but as this was part of the reason I finally came into this office, it’s not as if it’s a shock.
Then again, I guess it doesn’t matter how much you prepare; being told that you have advanced lung cancer isn’t exactly an easy thing to digest.
“Ms. Y/L/N?” The voice repeats itself, and I look up from my hands.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I know this is difficult news to process, but I need to ask you a few questions. You may have already been asked these, but since I’m the oncologist that will be taking over this case, I want to make sure everything I have is accurate.” I don’t trust myself enough to speak, so I just nod. “Do you smoke, or have you, smoked in the past?”
“No.” What a joke. It’s like getting blamed for something you didn’t do.
“Do you work in a field where you would be around asbestos, smoke, coal dust, other things of that nature?”
“Umm...no. My line of work takes me into some weird places, but I don’t spend that much time in them. It’s not really something I take into consideration most of the time.” It’s probably best I leave out all the times I’ve been down in a grave and inhaled burning bone dust...because surely that would throw up a red flag.
The doctor nods, her eyebrows raised in question, but looks back down at her clipboard and makes a note. “We know from your x-rays that it is...very advanced. But we can also do a tissue sample, a biopsy, to better understand what type of lung cancer you have. With that information, we can figure out what the true prognosis is and what treatments will be an option.”
“Then how do you know that it’s cancer? We haven’t even done a biopsy, what if the x-rays are wrong?” Oh, that sounds desperate. I am desperate. But come on, it’s a little early to just immediately go with lung cancer. Hasn’t this woman seen pneumonia?
She smiles sadly, “You’re right, without a biopsy I am not one hundred percent sure. But Ms. Y/LN, I gave those x-rays a careful look. I have considered all the possibilities, and we will do as many tests as we need to to make sure...but it is cancer. The question now is what kind and just how bad it is.”
Son of a bitch.
“Okay, umm...well, when do we need to do that?” The look she gives me is meant to be comforting. It’s not.
“Right now. We need find out what kind it is as quickly as possible so that we can confirm what treatment you need and get it started. I don’t want to waste any more time.”
“Oh...well, that...that makes sense. Okay.” Outwardly, I sound calm. I’m actually impressed by how steady my voice is. Inside, everything feels like it’s been turned upside down and lit on fire, only there’s no window to jump out of, no magical escape hatch.
“Do you have anyone you’d like to call?”
“No. I’m...I’m on my own.”
Now...
“Y/N!” A fist slams against the bathroom door, “Come on, I gotta go. What’d you do, fall in?” Oh, Dean, ever the one with words.
“I’m almost done! Jesus!” I rinse out the sink and give myself another look in the mirror. All appears well, aside from the dark circles under my eyes, which is just fine by me. I grab my bag off the counter and slam the door open, nearly catching Dean in the face with it.
“Hey, hey, hey, watch it!” He glares at me as he slides into the bathroom and shuts the door.
“Maybe don’t stand that close to the door,” I mumble as I drop down on the edge of the bed. God, I’m tired. At least this time, I can blame a hunt for my exhaustion. It’s getting harder to hide it, and the Winchesters are too smart for their own good. I can feel eyes on me and I sigh, “What, Sam?”
“Are you okay?” I can hear the lightly veiled concern; he’s trying to make it seem like a casual question, one we always ask each other after a hunt, but he knows. I don’t think he knows exactly what’s going on or else my ass would be in a hospital and not in the middle of Oregon in a run down motel, but he knows something is going on. Bless him, though, he’s kept his mouth shut for this long and manages to wait until Dean is out of earshot before asking.
“I’m fine. I’m just tired.” My eyes shift to my bag and I debate taking another pill. With Sam watching my every move, I can’t risk it, which is a shame because it feels like my lungs are on fire. He opens his mouth to respond, but the bathroom door flies open and he goes back to looking at his laptop.
Dean looks between the two of us suspiciously, “What’s going on?”
Sam clears his throat and turns his laptop around, “Nothing, I was just telling Y/N I think I found another case.”
Dean rolls his eyes, “We just finished one! Can’t we just go to the bar, drink until we can’t see straight, and then pass out for like three days?”
Sam frowns, “We could do that and let this vengeful spirit kill everyone that goes into the hotel it’s currently terrorizing, or we could take care of it and then go home.”
“Fair enough. Well, let’s get this shit show on the road.” Dean walks over to his bed and bends down to retrieve his bag while Sam grabs his laptop and shoves it into his backpack. For a moment, I’m lost in the way Dean’s shirt pulls around his shoulders; it’s a rare summer day when all he’s wearing is a t-shirt and jeans, and I can see every muscle shift as he stands back up and hooks the bag strap over his shoulder. I don’t know if it’s because I’m dying and the little things are enough to keep me going, or the fact that I’m surrounded by beautiful Winchesters every day of my life, but I can’t stop staring at….him. Sam’s beautiful, and if I’m being honest I find myself watching him when he runs his large hands through his shiny, chestnut hair, but Dean...every move he makes is distracting. It’s annoying. It’s even more annoying when he catches me.
“Would you like a picture?” I look up from where I was obviously staring at his ass, and his green eyes shimmer with mischief.
“What?”
“My ass. You’re staring at it.”
“Oh, no, that’s…sorry, I was just thinking.” I stand up faster than I should have, and the world tilts in a sickening swirl. I can feel my knees getting ready to buckle and I pray to whoever is out there listening that I don’t fall. A strong hand catches me and I send a silent thank you, although I’m sure Dean is going to have questions.
“You okay?” The mischief is gone from his eyes. I nod, unsure if my voice would give me away. He tilts his head and his free hand travels up to my face, “Are you wearing lipstick?” He gently drags his thumb across my bottom lip, and I can’t tell if it’s the cancer or his proximity that’s making it hard to breathe.
“No...just naturally this gorgeous. The good Lord blessed me with pretty solid lip genes.”
“Mmm...I guess he did.” He clears his throat and lets his hand drop, “We should get going, Sammy’s waiting.”
“Yea…” He turns and leaves the room, and I grab my bag, running the back of my hand across my lips. A bright red smudge mars the smooth skin, and I look up through the open door to see Dean glance down at his hand, then back at me.
Shit.
Read Part 2 HERE.
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