#!fever

[sickonthedancefloor]

So, Can i request a TXT Yeonjun emeto Fic? Thanks

I know this request was like... a year ago. And I'm sorry! If you're still around, anon, hopefully this finds you.

Disconnected

Sickie: Yeonjun Caretaker:  Soobin Content: emeto, stomach aches, nausea, disorientation

Yeonjun felt like he was going to die.

Figuratively speaking, at first. Some amalgamation of anxiety, excitement and probably some sort of exhaustion, if Yeonjun could feel it. They’ve been in the practice room for the greater part of five hours, working and reworking and re-reworking a potential run-through for his solo performance on Studio Choom. It wasn’t for another month, more than enough time to finetune everything once they begin using props and marking the stage’s dynamics. He has time, this is his main agenda outside of preparing for their upcoming tour.

But after dancing for five hours? Yeonjun thinks he’s going to die, quite literally.

He’s got the TXT practice room to himself now, with Kai and Taehyun off with friends and Beomgyu napping at the dorms, and he’s seen Soobin pop up once or twice to drop off water or watch the progress. But outside of the first hour and a half with the choreographer, Yeonjun’s completely alone.

And he’s starting to feel off.

As the music begins once again from the speakers, the choreographer’s moves on the screen resuming from the start, Yeonjun makes his way over to where he’s put his water bottle. And he trips over his own sneaker, almost lands headfirst onto the floor.

“Agh,” he complains to himself. “Feet, come on.”

Is he tired? Is that what it is?

Yeonjun reaches his water bottle and unscrews the cap, wondering why his throat feels kind of tight. Not allergen tight, but an odd feeling, almost restrictive, as if something in his throat is what’s giving him issues. With a deep sigh, he subdues whatever may be bothering his insides in exchange for taking a sip.

And it’s an awful idea. The moment the warmed water passed over his tongue and down his throat, he could already feel it threatening to come back for a return visit.

“Come on, come on,” he mumbles to himself, his fingers gripping the water bottle.

As he takes another sip, he realizes quite quickly what he’s experiencing here—and it’s just… nausea.

His stomach feels unsettled, and the moment the water touched it, it shattered something solid in him. His mouth feels wet already, saliva beginning to pool around his tongue. He swallows roughly to subdue it.

It doesn’t work, anyway.

Immediately, the floor doesn’t seem so solid, and neither does Yeonjun’s resolve. With shaky hands, Yeonjun swallows again, and thus begins the internal monologue of: don’t throw up – don’t throw up – don’t throw up–

And it doesn’t work. His stomach immediately summersaults and he barely has time to put the water bottle on the counter before he rushes to the small trash can, hunching over. It’s barely two feet from the ground, but it helps. He gives the can a rough spit, but it doesn’t do anything.

Immediately, Yeonjun is angry. After all these hours of working to get this done and his timing has to be the worst. He doesn’t have time. This is a non-issue.

And his stomach seizes up again. A cramp the size of a tsunami waves across him and cause him to curl down further, bringing the tall member to hover barely over the can. He doesn’t have time to focus on another wave of cramps before he just feels it come pouring upward. Warm, thick, and full of chunks, and it reeks. It felt like undigested breakfast, warm tea and cold rice working its way into the trash can at an alarming rate. Yeonjun feels shaky, so he places his hands on his knees to brace himself as another mouthful rips its way up. The noise he makes is inhumane, annoyed by how his stomach hurts, his his back is throbbing, how he has to deal with all of this in the first place. He didn’t make these plans, for sure; he wanted to be done, go home.

He coughs up another heavy mouthful, breath heaving with each effort. He hurts, aches, and he’s not getting any relief as his body continues to expel everything his stomach may have contained over the past week. Barely another cough in, a hard spit, and he’s back to coughing up bile and stomach acid once he feels himself running empty.

He feels woozy. His vision spins for a moment, and the sound of the choreographer from the speaker goes almost silent for a solid few seconds. Yeonjun’s vision blurs, then returns as another cramp seizes him. Another mouthful. He’s so shaky, he can feel himself almost willing his knees to keep him up while he spits another mouthful.

And after a moment, it stops. He’s spent, exhausted, and he crumples almost immediately to kneeling on the ground. Without a napkin and with no strength to get a tissue from the box on the side table, he merely uses the back of his hand to wipe at his mouth and spits another rough mouthful into the trash can.

“God… that fucking hurt,” he mumbles to himself.

The choreographer’s voice is too loud. The speaker is a little ways away, the remote nearby, but Yeonjun can’t bring himself to make it over there. His head feels too disjointed, almost feeling far too faint. And hot, everything feels so overwhelmingly hot. Sweat plasters his shirt to his back, and the air in the room isn’t cool enough to combat how his temperature must have spiked.

Tilting over, he merely lays down on the floor and pulls his phone from his pocket. When he opens the screen, the bright light brings the nausea back so he turns it back off. Just a few minutes, he tells himself. He’ll just wait, rest a moment, he should start feeling better in a few minutes. His eyes close.

~*~

Yeonjun isn’t sure when he fell asleep or what happened, but he awakens to Soobin’s voice on the phone and a hand gently stroking his hair. He groans, only to hear Soobin’s deeper voice hushing him softly.

“It’s okay, hyung. It’s okay, you’re okay.’

Yeonjun, strangely, believes him. A brief chill runs down his spine, but when he curls in more, he can feel the heat of Soobin’s thigh underneath his head, and the comfort of a thick sweatshirt draped over him. He just pulls his hands into the fabric more. It’s oddly very comfortable here, and with Soobin’s long fingers combing through his long locks, he almost begins to drift off again.

As he settles, he hears Soobin’s voice begin again. He must be talking to someone; Yeonjun’s vision is blurred and teary when he tries to look up, so he gives up quickly and closes his eyes. “Yeah, he just woke up for a moment. Mhmm… he hasn’t since I’ve been here, but he’s not mumbling anymore.” A pause. “Yeah, I’ll wait here.” And then: “Yeonjunie?”

“Mm?” Yeonjun mumbles in acknowledgement. He tilts his face but doesn’t open his eyes.

“Think you’re awake enough to tell me what happened?” The request isn’t unkind and Soobin’s keeping his voice low, almost as if he senses Yeonjun’s growing headache. His fingertips rake along Yeonjun’s scalp and it’s so gentle and comforting that it almost lulls him back to sleep.

“Yeonjunie?”

“’M up…” Yeonjun grumbles. His mouth feels full of cotton. It takes him another moment before he just sighs. “Dunno… tired.”

“I know… were you feeling sick all day?”

That receives a grunt and the smallest of head shakes. Yeonjun doesn’t think he felt terrible all day; actually, things were going well for the first few hours, he’s sure. Soobin doesn’t push him further, but he does pause in his hair rubbing to place a hand on Yeonjun’s forehead. Yeonjun whines, trying to tilt his scalp back to Soobin’s hand, and it gets a small chuckle from the young man as he returns his head to scratching his scalp.

“Yeonjunie?” the older one hears again, but with a soft groan, he merely pushes his head back into the sweatshirt and falls asleep again.

~*~

When he wakes up again, he’s once again struck with an overwhelming urge to vomit. He pushes himself upright, eyes opening to bright white lights, and the nausea rushes to turn his stomach inside out. And immediately there’s a hand on his shoulder, leaning him forward. He can briefly feel a bucket in his hands before he sticks his face inward and gags. But only a stringy mouthful of water and spit and bile escape him. He groans, but it turns into a gag and he manages to cough up a little more bile. With a strained cough, he spits, and feels the edge of a cup placed on his lips.

“Take a mouthful and try to rinse,” Soobin’s voice cuts in softly.

It’s commanding enough but gentle at the same time; even when speaking like authority, Soobin’s voice is always so soothing. He truly is a fantastic leader. Yeonjun just does as he’s told, taking in a sip and relishing in the sensation of cold water on his tongue before he feels something gritty and slimy in his mouth. It’s almost enough to make him gag again, but he shuts his mouth to try and avoid thinking about what it actually is and just spits the water into the bowl. He rinses a second time, before Soobin tells him to just sip slowly.

“What—” but it takes Yeonjun a moment. He still feels dizzy, he thinks; not really any pain, but he doesn’t feel very secure sitting up. His head leans forward, and a gentle hand directs him to a shoulder. Judging by the scent from earlier, it’s Soobin again. “What… did I miss?”

Soobin sighs softly, and brings the cup back to his lips. “Another sip. Yeonjunie-hyung, you’re sick, you know.”

With that, Yeonjun just groans. He doesn’t have the time, but he guesses his body made sure he did.

“Your fever’s going down, though… But this is the third time you’ve thrown up in here. The hospital’s going to keep you to get you hydrated again.”

It is? Yeonjun doesn’t even recall throwing up in here, much less being brought in here at all. That gets him to raise his head, eyes open to face Soobin. As they make eye contact, their leader smiles, relief showing in his eyes. “Feeling more awake? You’ve been out of it for the better part of three hours.”

“What happened?” he mumbles.

Apparently, as Soobin explains, Yeonjun answered his call. When he hadn’t come back for the two to leave or answered his texts, Soobin had called his phone and, half-asleep, he answered and mumbled about his stomach hurting. Soobin pieced his location together by the choreographer’s voice in the background and found him. A medical check in the practice room, a trip to the hospital in the van, blood work, and vomiting three times while asking the same question was what led them to that moment.

But he was lucid now. His skin, albeit pale, was slowly regaining its honey soft color. And he’s being held overnight, IV pushing Tylenol and saline through his veins to keep him hydrated.

With a groan, he merely puts his head back on Soobin’s shoulder, which gets a laugh from the younger leader. “Thanks, man.”

“For what, taking care of you?”

That elicits a small nod while Yeonjun closes his eyes. He’s exhausted, even though he’s been sleeping on and off this whole time.

“You don’t even have to ask, Yeonjunie. I’ll always take care of you.”

[technovillain]

crown jewel/stained glass jello cakes are like beautiful angels to me. it's fruity and delicious. it's retro kitsch. it's an edible example of midcentury minimalist art in every cross section.

i understand the 50s housewife appeal here. if i rolled up to the potluck with a fugly cobbler and my neighbor brought one of these i may have to end my stupid sloppy fruit life.

[cosmos-kitty]

Maybe the real treasure was the boops we made along the way

[gongyussy]

those!!! are!!! his!!!! tits!!! be gentle 👉👈

[hamletthedane]

I'm too much of a sucker for the tragedy of Wicked's ending to take any of this seriously, but the funniest possible fix-it concept is that Glinda just. Does not know. How the fuck. To send this 12yo back to Kansas. Like why the hell would she know how to do that?? Who thought it was a good idea to leave her in charge of this???

And from Dorothy's POV, this is such a funny concept: imagine for a minute that you (a child) wake up in a Fairy-Land, become best friends with a (possibly mentally unstable?) talking scarecrow, and are told by the god-kind that you must go murder his political rival before he'll send go home. Fine. This might as well happen.

And when you return from said murder - which is somehow successful - it turns out the god-king is a fraud and cannot help you. Whoops. Well, how about the OTHER seemingly most powerful person in the country? Ah, no....it turn out she had pretty limited powers in the magic department. And they're mostly bubble-related.

So she takes you (by bubble) to a tiny seaside town on the edge of the map to seek the help of her most powerful friends….the woman you just murdered and your scarecrow best friend who was an accomplice to that murder. And apparently, they’ve all three been dating since undergrad.

I mean, what do you even do with that.

[devotion-disorder]

...he's just curious about human biology!!!!!!!

[madscientistreaction]

gulps . hi

[plastiboo]

[echo-echo31]

ngl it wasn't on my 2025 bingo list

[prlssprfctn]

Dick is a type of person who gets very (even more than usual) dramatic when he falls sick. His attention span reduces to zero, he is in the middle of writing his will, and he is constantly over-bored, bothering everyone with random calls or by spawning behind their backs out of nowhere.

(It doesn't help that Bruce is paranoid, and every time his kids get sick, he is like in full-time helicopter mom mode as if they are actually about to die in a second, but that's beside the point.)

When Tim gets sick, it is a catastrophe. He is so stubborn about everything that he ignores half of the house. He doesn't even tell others he is sick until he coughs out his lungs or something, and when they finally realize it, he is battling for the right to get everyone off him, because, hey. Nothing happened. He is fine.

If Damian gets sick... It is the cutest thing ever. He becomes so clingy. He comes to put his head on someone's lap or curls on their chests. He huffs a lot too, and mutters something, but he loves to sleep and be hugged, when he is sick, and that's the most charming shit ever.

When Jason gets sick?

Everyone expects him to be the most troublesome person in the world. Because, well, it is Jason. He kicks everyone away, when he is poisoned, he rarely asks to patch him up, unless things go to rough, and he can be flippant as hell when he feels too vulnerable.

But then, Jason actually gets sick, and everyone is an awe, because he is so quiet? His voice becomes smaller, he does whatever Alfred asks him to do, he takes all medicine without throwing a tantrum or asking to sweeten it with something else. He accepts anything, really.

Because when he was a child, long before Bruce found him, he had no place or time to be sick. His mother needed him. He needed to take care of things, he heeded to continue acting like he was fine, like he didn't need help or medicine — he walked around with a fever, and spend restless nights coughing out his lungs.

But then Bruce came. And he was finally allowed to rest. Explained that he needs to be taken care of, and someone in this manor, always will do that for him.

So, when Jason stumbles in the Batcave in the random night, sniffling and trying to suppress cough, Bruce is not surprised in the slightest. If anything, he welcomes him as fast as he can, before Jason can overthink what he did (out of pure instincts, really) and leave again.

Jason came, because Bruce taught him that.

As simple as that.

[xpurplepiex]

guys i never in my life drew a robot or mecha so im trying my best to understand how to draw these fuckers😭😭 always loved tf but never tried to draw it💔 but i caught my childhood hyperfixation again so i guess i will force myself to draw goddamn robots BECAUSE THEY ARE FUCKING COOL!!! RAAAGHH 💥💥💥

[sickonthedancefloor]

Unexpected Dinner Company

Prompt: “And Suga called to ask if I was fine. I replied saying that I’m bored because I’m all alone and then after a while, Suga came to the dormitory with chicken in his hand! I was so touched at the time I fell for him without even realizing it. If I was a girl, I would definitely fall in love!”

That one time Hoseok got stress-induced enteritis and Yoongi took him to the hospital.

Sickie: Hoseok Caretakers: Yoongi Content: fevers, emeto, stomach aches

The music pauses again. Hoseok stands by the sound system in their little practice room, eyes holding an intense stare as he focuses on the device. It was the holidays, but seeing as his family lived so far from Seoul in Gwangju, he had opted to save his parents the train money and just spent the break at their small dorm. It had been rather peaceful, the entire dorm out for the two weeks break, save for the two who stood in the dance room. Originally, it had been only Hoseok, but his hyung—bless his heart, truly—had opted to stay a little later than planned and kept him company.

The other occupant? Yoongi. A year older then Hoseok but with far more wisdom in the industry than Hoseok would have ever guessed, with his sharp understanding of the choreography and his willingness to keep working with him.

“Seok-ah,” Yoongi calls from his spot on the ground. “Seok-ah, you didn’t make a mistake.”

“I did, hyung,” Hoseok insists. He’s breathing heavily, the strain of the practice pressing almost like a weight against his chest. He takes a sip of his water and lets the cool liquid rest in his mouth before swallowing it. But only one sip, he couldn’t weigh himself down with water until he felt like he’d accomplished the scene. Setting the bottle back down, Hoseok turns to the older rapper. “Can we try it again?”

Yoongi nods. “Start it from the end of the verse, we’ll launch into the chorus better.”

Hoseok answers with a nod of his own. He presses the forward button until the MP3 sped up to where they needed, then scurries back into his spot. The music begins again, and right at the beat, both boys jump and launch right into the choreography, checking their motions through the mirror before them. It was an intense song, lots of stomping and harsh moves while being quicker than it needed to be for the lyrics. But it was a cover; the band beforehand had put harsh, fast moves for effect. Their choreographer wanted to see if they could tackle it as rookies. The monthly trainee evaluation for January was delayed for the end of the month because of the holidays, so they had time to nail it. But they were determined to do well, and Yoongi noticed one of their hardest workers was his younger companion. Hoseok had a spirit about him that couldn’t be tampered. Truly, he finds it rather inspiring to work with him, even though the days are long and often tiring.

As the song trails to a stop, both boys just drop to sit on the scuffed wooden floor, breathing heavily as the song began to repeat itself through the speakers from the beginning. They’re already drenched with sweat, muscles burning from the intense movements they’ve been doing. And this is only after Yoongi had joined in; Hoseok, some strange form of early bird, had been to the studio for an hour or two already just dancing around, before he’d come back for breakfast.

Honestly, giving him a key to the dance studio was a bad idea. Hoseok spent half his life in that room, had already spent part of the holiday before Yoongi had even gotten out of bed.

It had been an hour and a half already, nearly two… Honestly, Yoongi wants to pass this evaluation but he wants lunch more. “Come on, Seok-ah, you’ve got this in the bag.”

Hoseok shakes his head, but something just looks off about him. He looks uncomfortable, like something was bothering him, and Yoongi doesn’t think it was just the choreography.

“One more time…”

Yoongi sighs. “I’m tired, Seok-ah… Come on, let’s get food and go home.”

Well, to the dorm. Their home away from home. The dancer affixes Yoongi with a disappointed look, teetering on the edge of asking to stay, but instead he sighs. “Okay. Let’s… let’s do cool-down and go back.”

Yoongi smiles, and he can see the younger one tries to return it. Hoseok slips a hand under his shirt and rubs his stomach; maybe it really is just hunger. Hopping to his feet, Yoongi goes to turn the music off, then heads over to help Hoseok to his feet. He feels his friend’s sweaty hand grip his and yanks him to his feet, only to have Hoseok stumble and tilt on edge. He almost drops to his knees but he catches himself with a step forward, both hands pressed on his thighs to keep him upright.

“Hoseok-ah!?”

“Hyung…” Hoseok grimaces. “Y-yeah?”

He’s sweating, and hard. Now, dancing for nearly four hours will do that to anyone, and there’s always times they find themselves in various states of undress from just dancing or working too hard. But something is definitely off. Hoseok’s breathing is rough, even with their short break.

“C’mon… let’s go sit down.”

Hoseok gives a shaky nod and lets Yoongi lead him to the plastic chairs shoved in the corner, dropping onto one of them. He leans forward again, propping one elbow against his knee, his other hand moving back to his stomach. Yoongi doesn’t sit just yet, instead choosing to bring Hoseok his water bottle, fanning him lightly with his own ballcap. Hoseok mumbles a small thanks, but he stays still and just tries to calm his breathing. He manages to calm down enough, but he looks uncomfortable as he sits back up.

“You okay?”

Hoseok nods. “I think breakfast just didn’t sit too well with me.”

Breakfast? But… all Yoongi could recall seeing him was some egg toast and soup. That usually sat well with everyone. Maybe their eggs were going bad. Yoongi reaches over to ruffle Hoseok’s hair, pointing to his jacket. “Let’s just hurry back. Maybe you just need something good for lunch.”

That earned a smile. “Cooking from hyung? I’m so lucky.”

Yoongi loved that smile. At least Hoseok seemed well enough to keep his spirit. And he immediately launched into a soft whine as he picked at his tee, completely damp with sweat, clinging to his chest. He decides he’s showering first, and honestly, it’s for the better; he smells sweaty. The whole room does, and often. Yoongi turns off the music and plugs in their scented dark light from the corner, hoping to take down some of the smell while they’re gone. Throwing on his cap, he leaves his jacket off and fishes for the keys to drive the two back to the dorm.

~*~

Hoseok still isn’t doing much better. Both are freshly showered and changed, and despite his tanned complexion, Hoseok just looks ashen. He says he’s okay, not one for much complaining (he called it professionalism, Yoongi called it being too brave sometimes), but Yoongi brings him a cup of tea when he notices Hoseok just holding his stomach. He figures it’s cramping, probably from too much work and not enough food, so he returns with a small bowl of seasoned rice and a spoon. Something to snack on while he finished the meat. By the time he finished, he finds the bowl of rice half eaten and Hoseok seems a little more relaxed. Yoongi sighs, placing their small row of banchan down before setting down the meat. He’s brought more rice for the two of them.

The way Hoseok’s eyes light up at the sagymeopsal just makes his day. It isn’t much, but Hoseok looks so happy he goes for a piece first instead of his usual kimchi. “Ahh hyung, this is really good!” he compliments, muffled by the meat.

Yoongi can’t help but grin back, nodding shyly as he waves the compliment off. He grabs his own piece and begins to eat. As dinner passes, Yoongi notices Hoseok seems more lively, definitely less uncomfortable than earlier. He eats a lot too, and both boys find themselves flopped on the floor in the living room, idly watching some reality dating show as they breathe through the food.

“I don’t think I can move to clean all this up,” Hoseok mumbles with a laugh. His hand finds his stomach again, bloated from probably eating so much, and he merely rubs up and down to soothe himself. But he looks happy, relaxed; and that’s all Yoongi really wanted. Perhaps today was just stressful from all the dancing. Yoongi makes a note to lecture him later, probably teasingly, but he figures right now, with how peaceful they both are, he doesn’t need to say anything. The two of them fall asleep right there on the rug, neither waking until one of the managers messaged them both late in the evening to check on them.

~*~

“Bored” with four frowny faces is the only text Yoongi receives when he checks on the dancer. His parents convinced him to come home for at least Christmas, and he agrees, especially seeing as he has some gifts for them that he afforded with his part-time job. Yoongi hasn’t spent a lot of time at home; his parents hadn’t been the most approving of his choice to join Bighit and become a trainee, and while they weren’t actively sabotaging him, it was hard to be around them with questioning remarks on if they’d debut and not have any real answers to give them. But he’s been making leaps and bounds in the rap world; he fought hard enough to make it into Bighit, he really isn’t worried. His parents had, thankfully, decided not to dwell and the few days were rather peaceful.

But every once in a while, his mind had drifted back to Hoseok. Hoseok who dragged himself out of bed early the day after their long studio morning to go right back to dancing, who had been putting on good faces up until it came time for Yoongi to head home. Hoseok who had been randomly spamming the chat just because he didn’t have company in their normally hectic noisy dorm. He must have been sad, spending another holiday up in Seoul instead of Gwangju with his family. But Hoseok said it was worth it; he didn’t want his parents to foot more roundtrip fare to get him home for Christmas when he’d only be gone for a few days, and his sister also hadn’t gone home; they could just video chat, he told them.

So Yoongi had decided that morning that he was leaving early. He tells his parents goodbye, kicks his brother playfully, and takes off back to the dorms.

As a bonus, with some extra cash his parents give him, he buys fried chicken. It’s a holiday tradition somewhere, he’s sure. Japan, he thinks? He’s not sure what the origin is but he knows it probably has to do with America. Whatever it is, he’s sure it’ll still be enjoyable.

Opening the door, Yoongi quickly shouts that he’s back, and finds Hoseok laying back on the floor in the living room watching a drama on their television, hand lazily fiddling with a tea bottle. The younger one grins at his arrival, attention immediately shifted. “Hyung! You’re back! Hey!”

Hoseok honestly doesn’t look good at all. Once again, just like he’d caught him in the practice room, he was pale and a little sweaty again, with a hand pressed against his stomach. Maybe it was just hunger again, but given how he was so pale… Yoongi was starting to doubt it.

“Brought chicken too.” Yoongi puts on a smile and sets it down on the table in front of him.

Hoseok’s eyes widen. “You came back early and brought food? Hyung, you must be an angel.”

The two laugh, and Hoseok clears a space on the table and hurries to his feet. He pauses, trying not to stagger; Yoongi’s quick to grab his arm to support him. “Hoseok-ah?”

The younger dancer grimaces, eyes shut as he takes a deep breath. He releases it with a shudder, his hand reaching up to rub at his head. “Sorry, hyung… I got dizzy for a second.”

“You don’t look well… here, sit. Let me get it for you.” Yoongi helps Hoseok back to the floor cushion, handing him his tea again, unscrewing the bottle for him. The bottle is still mostly full. “Drink some, okay?”

Hoseok nods, and goes to sip as Yoongi to the kitchen to grab a drink for himself. There’s not much in their little fridge, but he finds two colas and brings them out. It’s a special occasion; surely, whichever trainee had this will understand. He’s not sure if Hoseok will be up for the carbonation, but he wants to keep the offer there. As he returns, he finds Hoseok leaning forward, rubbing his stomach again.

Yoongi sighs. He’s glad he came when he did; Hoseok doesn’t need to be alone like this. They wait until Hoseok seems to feel a little better, whining as he sniffs the air. “Hyung… the chicken smells so good.”

“But do you think you can eat it?” Yoongi moves his hand to rub at the back of Hoseok’s neck, smiling as he watches his dongsaeng’s shoulders droop. “Is your stomach bothering you?”

Hoseok sighs. “A little, yeah…” But both boys knew Hoseok was lying; he could barely tell a convincing lie on a good day, but he looks downright uncomfortable to be where he is. Still, to prove himself, he reaches over and pulls off a piece and takes a bite. Yoongi watches him closely as Hoseok chews and swallows… and immediately leans forward.

“A lot… come on, Seok-ah, can you stand?”

“I get dizzy… I’m already a little dizzy.”

Shit. Hoseok isn’t a short kid, either. Doesn’t weigh much thankfully, but it’s all muscle. Hoseok’s always been lean limbs and slim muscles, but that doesn’t make him the lightest. Yoongi isn’t going to let them stay there though, not while Hoseok seems to be struggling so hard. He closes the travel box, sure they can put it up later, and goes to help Hoseok to his feet. And Hoseok sways. His skin goes ashen almost immediately, his eyes unfocused, and he knees seem to refrain from shaking by sheer force of will. For a solid second, Yoongi doesn’t think he can catch him, but Hoseok stumbles a step forward just in time.

The young dancer sighs. “Sorry, hyung… I kind of want to sit down.”

Yoongi just moves to Hoseok’s side. “We’re gonna need to take you to a hospital. There’s no way you can do anything like this.”

What worries Yoongi next is the immediate lack of protesting that came after. Hoseok mulls over the idea, as another grimace of pain washes over his face, and Yoongi just wraps an arm around his waist. He really does not seem to be feeling good.

“Come on, Seok-ah, let’s go.”

It takes a little longer than Yoongi would like to walk Hoseok downstairs from their dorm, but Hoseok goes without complaint. Besides a hitch of breath or a pause to wince, he doesn’t utter a single complaint. But Yoongi can feel how strained Hoseok’s small answers to his questions are, the slight tremble from under his arms. Hoseok’s skin feels so hot under his touch. When they make it downstairs, Hoseok takes to sitting on the side stairs while Yoongi orders a taxi. They’d considered the subways for all of one minute before Hoseok’s footing had slipped, and Yoongi opted against it. A taxi ride wouldn’t be awful on the finances; Yoongi’s sure replacing the sodas will cost more.

~*~

“That was… the worst taxi ride,” Hoseok grumbles as he leans heavily on Yoongi. Yoongi can’t disagree; the drive was rough, the traffic stop-and-go, and he’d taken to holding Hoseok’s hand to keep the younger dancer calm. But Hoseok’s face had taken on a greenish tint, and they weren’t even in the doorway before Hoseok pushes away from Yoongi.

“Seok-ah—”

And… splat. Hoseok leans forward by the trash can at the entrance, eyes screwed shut as he vomits again. Yoongi sighs, moving over to hold him up by his shoulders. He rubs his back with his other arm, trying to keep him calm.

“It’s okay, Seok-ah, let it out. I know it hurts.”

His hand rubs slow circles on his back, grimacing as he feels Hoseok’s back tense as he vomits another mouthful. He’s feeling warmer, and Hoseok can feel the sweat soaking through his shirt. He’s shaking completely now, one hand holding onto the pillar in the front, the other gripping his knee with white knuckles. He looks so weak, so strange, and Yoongi hates it. Hoseok, to Yoongi, has always been a strong young man; he’s always been up to every challenge, takes every job seriously, tackles every challenge he’s faced with his chin up and head held high. He’d dealt with feeling this poorly without complaining about anything. It startles Yoongi to know his friend has been suffering without asking for help at all.

But hyung’s here now. Yoongi’s not going to let him suffer alone.

Once Hoseok finishes, Yoongi’s arm around his shoulders tightens to help him up before he stumbles. Hoseok feels unsteady on his feet and he looks completely grey, and exhausted.

“Think you can make it inside?” Yoongi asks softly. “Or do you want to wait here and I’ll get a nurse—”

The automatic doors open, and a nurse hurries out with a handful of tissues. He hurries over to the pair. “Is he okay? Drunk?”

Hoseok accepts the napkins with a small mumble of thanks, wiping his mouth with the paper.

Yoongi decides to take charge talking to the nurse. He swallows his annoyance that every adult thinks the youth are nothing but trouble, and figures being direct is the best way to solve the issue.

“He’s sick. He’s having really bad stomach pain and a fever now.” Yoongi’s frown grew. “The taxi ride up here was really bad.”

The nurse, thankfully, nods and looks at Hoseok, taking in an initial evaluation. Hoseok is still unsteady but Yoongi’s holding him closely, and the man holds up one finger and hurries inside. He comes back out with a wheelchair. “Come on, let your friend sit here, we can go inside and get him signed in.”

That brings a smile to Yoongi’s lips. Finally, Hoseok will get some help.

~*~

Curled on his side in the hospital’s open room, Hoseok yawns as he looks at Yoongi. “Sorry, hyung, I know this was a lot.”

Yoongi just reaches over to stroke his hair. “That’s stupid, don’t apologize for being sick. Do they need to give you more painkillers?”

Hoseok gives a rough laugh. Through an IV, he’s received some fantastic painkillers, antinausea medication, and antibiotics, and he is completely relaxed under the thick blanket. The hospital is warm, but the medication working through his veins felt cold enough to give him a chill. While he was being examined, Yoongi had called their manager to give him a heads up and the staff promised to reimburse Yoongi for all of his efforts. Feeling a little more appreciated by the staff, albeit a little bashful for the compliments, he’d hurried off the call to return to Hoseok’s bedside.

Hoseok is already looking a little better. He’s not as pale, his cheeks finally taking on a rosier tint rather than the ashen grey he had earlier. He also didn’t look as stressed, but his eyes blink almost more rapidly as he looks at the older rapper. Yoongi reaches a hand over, stroking Hoseok’s hair back.

“Yoongi-hyung?”

“Hm?” Yoongi smiles down, long fingers raking across Hoseok’s scalp. He watches as the younger dancer’s eyelids grow heavy, another yawn escaping; Hoseok brings the corner of the blanket to his mouth and yawns into it again. As he begins to drift off, he mumbles a soft but solid, “Thank you, hyung. You’re the best.”

That startles Yoongi. Looking away as his neck begins to feel hot, he just shrugs. “You’d do the same for me, so… It’s nothin’.”

The smile on Hoseok’s face is the only indicator he’s heard, but neither of them say more.

“Sleep well, Hob-ah.”

[str1wberry7thyme]

Im really enjoying the discussion on how Joel managed to be the first to win a life series season by being a normal person, when in all previous series he was famously the complete opposite because it reminds me of just how insane he gets when he goes red. It’s so obvious he’s fighting tooth and nail to resist the urge to just go to town and murder everyone on the spot so he can have his chance at winning. But then he ends up risking his life anyways to ender pearl after the other remaining three players, runs head first into a three on one fight, chases Cleo down without hesitation, sadistically asking Ren if the poison hurts and once Ren dies from it he climbs up that tree and shoots that bird down with a smile on his face. He spent the whole season holding back and was sooo ready to let go

[dad-dumpster]

[violent138]

League members discussing meeting Robin at work:

"Compared to Bats, Robin was a total sweetheart. Ball of sunshine."

"Man, must've been a good day then, the kid I met was a real anklebiter. He pulled out a sword and everything."

"Anklebiter is harsh, the sweet boy I met barely said a word, he just kept asking about Themyscira and the lasso."

"He? I met a blonde girl."

"No, no, black haired boy with blue eyes. We're talking about Robin."

"Yeah same here, blue eyed and tanned."

"Pretty sure he had green eyes. And talked fancy. And kind of scolded me for time travelling."

"The child I met was paler than the moon."

"I'm telling you I met a girl, and she was Robin."

"Well... either we're all wrong or we're all right."

So they arrive at the conclusion that Bats has a shape-shifter for a kid.