#emeto mentions tw

[honorary-fool]

Mortal Treatment || Whumptober 2023 Day 2

No. 2: “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.”

Thermometer | Delirium | “They don't care about you.”

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cw/tw: swearing, mention of emeto/vomit (nothing happens though), mentions of a previous character's death, blood mentions (not real),

misc notes: oc x canon, oc uses they/them & vae/vaer neopronouns, first attempt at trying to write actual delirium but I think it turned out okay ^^ ; also used a prompt by @whumpster-dumpster ; not beta read ; cross-posted on ao3 under mimikyu_nerd_69

word count: 2.2k

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          Archons don’t get sick. They can't catch the flu, and are immune to stomach bugs. Common colds may as well tremble in their presence. Mortal medicine has little to no effect on their divine selves, as do the illnesses they contract and spread every once in a blue moon. Allergies are a different case, as they are not sickness, rather just reactions to things of the mortal world- Barbatos would know first hand. But a genuine illness afflicted upon one of The Seven? That would simply be unheard of!

          But most of the archons still have their gnosis in their possession, and without the chess-like pieces they are much weaker, both in terms of their power and general vulnerability. No one had thought to inform the anemo archon of this information, especially after his gnosis was taken rather painfully by The Fair Lady.

          At first Venti thought of the symptoms as merely his feline allergy rearing its head again. After all, he had been in the city earlier in the day- stray cats roaming the streets were a common sight in Mondstadt (and they seemed to really like him, furry bastards). 

          Surely that would explain the fatigue and the headache and blurry vision and puffy eyes and a particularly persistent case of the sniffles.. right?

          Venti made it to the Whispering Woods without blacking out or injury. With a less-than-graceful 'oomph', he dropped to the grass, and his lyre tumbled to the grass beside him with a low thump. He attempted to sit up and lean against the tree close by, but a lack of energy and faint body aches made it rather difficult. Okay, that's fine, it could be worse- he could've been in the middle of nowhere in Liyue with Geovishaps after him in such a state. 

          The bard closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to steady himself before he attempted again to sit up. This time it was a lot more successful, but still left him achy and fatigued. He leaned back against the rough bark, closing his eyes again to try and drown out the pounding headache at the back of his skull. It felt like someone was whacking him over the head with a flat end of a claymore. At least it was dark outside, so the sun wouldn't bother him like it did earlier in the day.

          There were no monsters in sight, so maybe it wouldn't hurt to doze off for a bit...

~=+=~

          Venti wasn't sure when he came to consciousness again, but he definitely knew the surroundings looked vastly different from before.

          He attempted to bolt, fearing he'd been kidnapped, only to fall off of something..fuzzy? and tumble face-first onto the floor. Everything felt like it was spinning, so it was hard to tell where exactly he was, which only added to how horrible he physically felt.

          Chills seeped into his bones, sending shivers down his spine and a cold sweat down his neck. Lights burned overhead, leaving him slightly overwhelmed by the heat and brightness. The headache remained, and as far as he could tell, it either stayed the same or worsened since he blacked out. Everything hurt all over, both from the fall and pre-existing body aches, and his limbs felt like jelly beneath him. He groaned, trying to hide from the light and in his arm instead.

"Taking that as the cue you've finally woken up.." Venti heard a familiar voice call, followed by footsteps.

          A head of teal hair poked their head into the room, immediately finding him on the floor with a sad smile. Of course his partner found him. At least it was someone he trusted to not have ill intent.

"Oh, you poor dear... you're in a worse state than I found you last night," Carmen cooed, approaching before kneeling on the floor next to Venti. "I'm glad I found you when I did... are you okay?"

"Mmh..."

          Seems he had little energy to speak as well. Lovely.

"Shit..," Carmen murmured as they reached forward, cupping his cheek in their hand as they slightly lifted his head up. "That's strange, your braids seem a little duller than usual... Hold still for me for a moment, I need to test somethin'.."

          Vae leaned to press a gentle kiss to the other's forehead, pulling away after a few seconds. Their expression, initially one of mild worry, shifted to one of concern, almost fear.

"You're burning up, lovebug... I thought it was a hangover, but you didn’t smell like wine, an’ I fear this might be worse," they attempted to joke, despite the worry lacing vaer tone. "Hopefully it’s nothing more than just a bad cold. I'm gonna try to get you back on my bed, okay?"

          Now that they said it, that does sound right..part of him wondered why vae didn’t bring him to his own room, but maybe they panicked..rightfully so, but still.

          Venti gave a weak nod, before returning his head to the cold floor beneath him. He lazily watched them as they stared with narrowed eyes for a few moments in silent contemplation. Carmen had carried him around multiple times, too many to count, but he's always been upright or standing prior to.. not exactly ill and flat on his stomach on the floor.

          After minutes of struggling through various attempts, Carmen finally had him sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning against their body for support. Once up there, they started to remove most of his layers in an attempt to cool him down a little bit. One hand gingerly undid the bow securing his cape while the other reached to grab the fallen beret off the floor. He managed to kick off his loafers himself, and vae moved behind him to loosen the laces on his corset. They even undid his braids, setting the hair elastics on the bedside table and carding their fingers through the sections to loosen the braids. Every garment removed was carefully set aside to fold up later, and by the time they finished, all he was left in was his shirt, shorts, and tights. 

          Afterwards, they gently pushed him to lay down, almost pulling the blanket over him before deciding against it.

“Is this helping? Do you feel a bit cooler yet?”

          Venti whined in response, curling up on his side.

          They sighed, gently placing their hand on his head and scratching at his scalp. A sad smile formed on their lips as they watched him lean into their touch almost instantly, like magnetic attraction.

"If you're gonna be okay being alone for a few minutes, I'm gonna grab a few things from the kitchen, okay?"

          Carmen tried to hide their laugh at the pout their partner had, glazed-over puppy eyes staring at them under dark hair. It’d be cute if he wasn’t sick..

"I'll be quick, I promise.. you don't feel like you're gonna throw up, right?"

          They felt him shake his head from under their palm, vaer hand moving with him.

"Then you'll be okay for five minutes, sweet pea.."

          They leaned over to gently place a kiss on the flushed tip of his nose, removing their hand from his head before leaving for the door.

          Venti watched them leave, staring off into space. Maybe the heat was getting to be too much, but he didn’t have the energy to use his anemo abilities to cool himself off.

          So, he just stared at the dark brown door, which then became staring at the darker brown floor, and then nothing at all as his vision blurred. Why was it so hard to focus, was this normal? It couldn’t be, but why was it so difficult to keep his eyes focused- did it really take that much energy?

          He sniffled quietly, rubbing at his eyes- maybe that would help?

          When he pulled his hand away, he saw a brown and white blur against the wall. 

“Mhh…” he groaned, trying to move himself closer to the edge of the bed to see it. Of course, he could only get so far in his weakened state.

          The blur looked..scarily reminiscent of someone. The colors were in all the right places, it had to be…

          They were dead though. He saw it with his own eyes. Why were they here if they’re dead?? 

          Too absorbed in his thoughts, he didn’t notice them come closer until pale blue eyes were staring right into his. He tensed, startled, before trying to reach out for them. His hand went right through them, and for a moment he felt the color drain from his face.

“Wh..”

          They’re..they’re gone, but they’re here! But they’re gone… But they’re here…

          Venti kept trying to touch them, to grab their hand, feel some sort of warmth and solidity in their form. Pale hand kept swiping at air, cutting through the image of his late best friend.

“No.. no no no no-”

          His hand shook as he kept trying, until it fell limply back to the mattress, until his vision became too blurry to see them completely.

“Don’t go..come back..” he pleaded, sniffling.

          The white and brown figure backed away slowly, out through the open doorway.

“Come back..”

          The god’s eyes burned, and this time he rubbed at them with his sleeve. When he pulled his arm away, he saw red.

“Carmen..? Carmen..!” he choked out, clawing at the sheets, oblivious to how they left no streaks of blood. “Carmen.. ‘m bleeding..”

          Venti saw the figure slowly return, kneeling at his side again.

“Why’s..why’s it back? Carmen..!” 

          He kept crying out for his partner, increasingly overwhelmed from the light, and the blood, and the image of his dead best friend taunting him with its presence, and-

“I’m here, sweetheart..”

          In the white and brown figure’s place was his partner, looking down at him in concern. Carmen gently cupped his cheek with warm, pale hands, wiping away the tears with vaer thumb. If his eyes didn’t deceive him, he could’ve sworn they flinched.

“Shhh, it’s okay..” they cooed, “I’m here, you’re safe…”

“But..but ‘m bleeding-”

“Bleeding?”

          They watched him raise his hand to show him. He didn’t understand why they took his hand in theirs almost instantly and gently squeezed it- why would they immediately touch something bloody?

“There’s no blood, sweet pea, I promise…it’s a bit wet with tears, but that’s about it..” they reassured him, letting go of his hand after a few moments.

“Oh..”

“Is that why you’re crying?”

          He nodded, rubbing at his eyes again. “Mhmm… an… an’ I saw someone..”

“Oh?” Carmen tilted their head slightly. “That’s..a bit worrying. Who exactly did you see..?”

“Mhh…my, my friend..”

          Thankfully, knowing of the archon’s background, it didn’t take long to figure out who he most likely meant, despite a few people fitting the description of just ‘his friend’. If it were one of the others, they’d be mentioned by name, but because this one wasn’t, then that meant…

“I see…”

          It broke their heart to see him so upset, between the illness and likely resurfaced grief. Poor bastard’s had to put up with so much shit- not that they haven’t either, but there’s a difference between being an immortal god that’s been around for centuries and an immortal elf that’s been around for even less time.

          They pulled away for a moment, crawling up onto their bed to sit next to the god. Vae gently turned vaer partner over onto his other side, frowning at how he winced from the movement. Seems those body aches haven’t left…

“I’m sorry it took so long to come back, by the way..I got sidetracked trying to make soup..” They eyed the tray they put on the bedside table, watching the steam rise from the radish and veggie soup bowl. “I did get the thermometer though…let’s see, just ooone second-”

          Carmen reached over the god and plucked the thermometer off the tray. They pressed a button, waited for the beep, then carefully stuck it under his tongue.

“Good..it’s only for a minute, I know it’s uncomfortable..” 

          They held the thermometer with one hand and used the other to play with Venti’s hair in an attempt to distract him from the uncomfortable sensation. Thank goodness Fontaine made these a while ago- they couldn't imagine how people used to figure out temperatures without them.

          Finally, the thermometer beeped, and they removed it to look at the number.

“Shit… 39.4. No wonder you were hallucinating your friend…”

          Carmen sighed, setting the thermometer down before trying to move the god to sit up against the pillows. He let vaer do so, not having the energy to do it himself or protest other than a wince of pain, to which they mumbled an apology. 

          As soon as he was sorted out, they reached for the tray on the bedside table, deciding it best to maybe get some form of sustenance in his system to help combat the illness. There’s not much that can be done, given mortal medicine’s a hit or miss, but that has to work, right?

          Vae was about to lift a spoonful to his mouth, when they realized he was nodding off against their shoulder. Into the bowl goes the spoon, their hand reaching up to play with his hair instead. Later then, they decided, ‘cus for now he needs all the rest he can get.

[genderqueerdykes]

had the consult for my gallbladder surgery. the doctor told me i need to "lose 10 - 15 pounds" before they'll perform the surgery on me, and that I would need to wait 2 - 3 months before they would schedule it. i told her i have PCOS which makes it difficult to lose weight. she told me that does happen, and offered to refer me to a bariatric surgeon who is used to bigger bodies who could perform the gallbladder removal instead. i asked her for the referral to them instead

i was very angry at her for this, as 10 - 15 pounds do not make any difference when you are 300 lbs. my weight fluctuates between 280 - 340 lbs depending greatly on what i've eaten, how much i exercise, and so on. this will also vary greatly depending on if the stone is blocking my gallbladder completely or partially- if it's fully blocking the neck of my gallbladder, i cannot get enough digestive juices into my stomach to properly digest my food, so i will begin violently vomiting to get the undigested food out, and to get bile flowing into my stomach again. i begin to lose tons of weight when this happens, and i put it back on during the periods where i can get enough bile in my stomach to properly digest my food.

i can't digest my food properly. eating "healthier" will not change this- i can't digest food at all, period. healthy or unhealthy, i can't digest anything, because a good half of my digestive juices are completely missing from my guts. there is a functional issue with the way my guts work, of course i will lose weight drastically and put it back on at times. of course the issues will be episodic.

both her and the student that was working with me kept assuming that i said that my pain got worse after "high fat" meals. both of them put this in my mouth-

the student did it first. she asked when the pain gets worse and i said sporadically, but sometimes after i eat. she literally asked me "so you said it gets worse after fatty meals, right?"

i got frustrated and said "no, it's really random." i didn't get to tell her that raw leafy vegetables and lightly steamed or cooked vegetables make me vomit. broccoli and cauliflower that aren't heavily cooked, salads, raw vegetables, lightly cooked carrots, applesauce and apples in general are all problem foods.

the doctor then came in and said "it gets worse after high fat meals, right? you said that" and i went, again, "no it just kinda happens."

i don't even eat a high fat diet. i cook at home now for every meal now that i have all the tools i need to do so. i make rice, fish, pasta, and certain vegetables that i can digest like potatoes, sweet potatoes, onions, mushrooms, and so on. i eat bread, seeds, nuts, dried fruits, and drink oatmilk. i don't eat land meats, eggs, or dairy. i don't have any of those things. i do eat french fries and fish sticks, but not for every single meal. i don't eat chips because they're too salty and irritate my stomach. i don't eat candy or sweets unless the food bank delivers them to me. i don't eat much sugar other than pancakes and certain fruits

she wouldn't listen to me and went "well when you eat fatty meals, your gallbladder has to contract more and it can cause you a lot of pain." you would not believe how many times she came back to "you need to eat a lower fat diet." "the pain gets worse after you eat a high fat meal, so eat lower fat meals and your pain will go down." "just eat a lower fat diet and it'll help."

i just kind of sighed. there were tears in my eyes. i felt defeated. they made a bunch of assumptions just because i was sitting there, being fat. i was wearing long sleeves due to it being cold and they didn't get to see that i have a lot of muscle in my body mass. quite a lot. i wanted to tell them that i'm on testosterone and physically active when and where possible, and that i frequently lift heavy objects and move, but i never got a chance. i wanted to tell them my BMI isn't what they think it is, but i just didn't bother to try

i despise that people assume that fat people are fat because they eat "unhealthy" foods. i ate high fat foods for a few months while i was homeless because i didn't have the resources to cook every single meal. it affected my liver, i'm dealing with some fatty liver. but my gallbladder has more important issues in the form of the literal stone inside. she would not stop pushing for me to eat lower fat meals. all because i was sitting there, existing, as a fat person. i wish i would've told her i can only eat fish and plant matter

i don't understand how a patient telling you they're vomiting and can't keep down certain foods does not sound like a more pressing issue than an arbitrary number. weight as a number means nothing, it tells you nothing about that person's actual body composition. i have trauma with vomiting and yet i'm going to have to keep doing it anyway despite the fact that it could kill me via dehydration or if i just. can't stop

either way i'm very unhappy with result as i already waited for a month for this consult. now i have to wait for a referral for another surgeon to go through, and to do the consult with them, too. all while being in pain and having GI issues the entire time. just because a surgeon doesn't want to take the time to learn how to operate on fat bodies. i'm tired. what a joke

[cinnamoneve]

𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐞.

heliophile \ ˈhēlēəˌfīl \ (n.) - one attracted to, or adapted to sunlight.

❆ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: gojo satoru x fem!reader ❆ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: satoru was warm, like the sun. it only took a big social event (and for him to drink a bit) for you to truly see him shine ❆ 𝐰𝐜: 2.3k ❆ 𝐚/𝐧: ough i love him i've been sitting on this for a WHILE !! as always, reblogs n comments are much appreciated <;3 ❆ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: alcohol consumption ( everyone give a big hand to satoru for drinking !!!! ) and then he throws up from alcohol consumption !!! (emeto warning)

satoru gojo was an easy man. 

he had a laundry list of things he loved more than life. his students, his pretty little girlfriend; there wasn’t a boundary that existed that his persistent and ever-forward personality couldn’t break into. 

satoru was like the sun, in a way. things just…came alive around him. the chaos he brought with him everywhere he went was so common that it was almost comforting. where bad things happened, satoru fixed them. and wherever he was, the good just followed. his rays of light and entropy reached out and warmed everything it touched. all beings seemed to turn to bask in his very being.

for things he hated? well, there was a list for that too. some more prominent than others, but your favorite thing he seemed to hate was the least offensive of its competition: alcohol.

in the years you two have been together, you couldn’t recall the last time satoru was seen with a drink in his hand, let alone remember if you’d ever seen it. he didn’t mind when other people were drinking, of course (and loved to indulge you when you got a bit too drunk), but never let himself take a sip.

you weren’t sure if it was because of a bad experience in his youth, something in his family, or just a personal experience; it was never right to bring it up.

but you didn’t mind. and tonight was a night worth celebrating, after all.

you and satoru got dressed up to go out with some friends. something about a big mission finally being over. you’ve never seen anyone party as hard as sorcerers do after they finish their job. all you and satoru could do was attend and catch up with colleagues. you’d have a drink, he’d have a mocktail, and all would flow like it normally would.

satoru fiddled with the button on his shirt as you two walked into the venue.

some club that was picked out by someone whose name you forgot–maybe they were from kyoto? you couldn’t really remember. it wasn’t the type of scene you frequented, but a change of pace was very much welcomed. 

your boyfriend’s jittery hands caught your eye as you glanced over at him. his other hand kept you close to his body, but just enough so that you could look up at his face. 

“feelin’ okay, baby?” 

he looks at you a little delayed, nodding before his eyes meet yours to put your mind at ease.

“we don’t have to stay too long, if you don’t wanna hang around,”

“that’s not it,” he starts, and he barely opens his mouth before he’s called over by some colleagues. you continue to look up at him as he greets them with a sweet smile, rubbing your back to soothe your worries.

mmm, not like you believed him, but you did trust him; so you followed him along, walking just ahead of him as his hand guided you towards his colleagues. 

and the colleagues just kept on coming, even inside the club. you’d think satoru worked with, or even saved, every single person in the entire country with the amount of people coming up to you at this party. and he had a story for each and every one of them too–his memory about them all was crazy. it almost made you fall in love with him just a little bit more. he’s interacted with hundreds–no, thousands of people for work. but he always seemed to remember those he had a different kind of impact on. 

it made your head spin a bit. sure, he liked to be grandiose about his adventures and his work, but seeing people back him up about it in the flesh seemed like a big gag that you weren’t let in on. you believed him, but was he really that great? he saved that many people, exorcized how many curses?

admiration poured out for satoru quicker than he could extend out a glass to hold it all. it was heartwarming to see. part of you wished people would treat him like this always, in secret hopes he’d be gentler on himself on the bad days. or maybe they already did, and it just wasn’t enough.

it was hard to hear everyone speaking when you were thinking so loud. you caught yourself staring at your boyfriend for longer than you think was normal.

he was the sun. the burning, beautiful, sustaining sun. people turned to him instinctively like sunflowers do when they want to flourish. like the sun, it felt like satoru was bound to detonate at any point–by the time you knew, it’d be over already. fleeting, warm, quick, yet merciless. 

do the people basking in his warmth know that it’s the warmth of a man who lit himself on fire?

mankind could never land on the sun. you’d burn up before you could even truly appreciate it. maybe these people were appreciating him from a safe distance. close enough, but never close enough to scald themselves or be swallowed up in the atmosphere. 

if he was the sun, you weren’t sure what that makes you.

a close planet orbiting nearby? an asteroid? maybe you’re a lone astronaut, untethered in the vastness of it all. with the sun loving you from afar, as it usually does. 

you weren’t sure if you liked the answer, or the implication of it all. it was time for a drink. 

when satoru had a spare moment to breathe, you pulled him away to head to the bar and get a drink. you hugged him a little bit tighter than usual, opting to hold onto his arm instead of just his hand.

“you okay there?” he asked.

you nodded, smiling at him and rubbing his arm. you’d thought yourself into a worry, is all, there was no use in getting him mixed up in it as well. 

“i’m okay! just meeting a lot of people tonight,”

“sorry, i’m sure it’s overwhelming, sweetie,”

“i don’t mind it. i like hearing all of your stories from work,”

you reach the bar and he leans on it, looking at you fondly.

“really~? you like hearing all these stories about your big, bad boyfriend saving the day, huh?”

you roll your eyes at him playfully, trying to suppress a smile.

“mmm, it’s gone. you ruined it,”

he cocks his head smiling, drawing a little nonsensical pattern on your arm while he admires you.

maybe you couldn’t be the sun. but you could get as close as you wanted to it. he accepted you into his atmosphere with open arms.

“don’t pretend you don’t love it, baby,”

you look away as the bartender approaches, smiling gently. 

“something like that,”

you place your order, chatting with the bartender about another patron. 

unbeknownst to you, satoru had been approached by a woman he’d worked with many years ago. she greeted him with a warm hug, touch lingering on him a little too long, eyes traveling too south before talking only about what she’s been up to. 

by the time you’d gone back to him with your drink, satoru was holding a small shot glass in hand. 

“i’ve been treated to a shot! lucky me,” he said. 

you shift your eyes between him and the woman across from him, unsure what was going on. before you could decide, satoru was rubbing your lip with a lemon wedge. 

you couldn’t even wipe the juice dribbling from your chin before watching your boyfriend lick salt off the back of his hand and slam back his drink. 

and then he turned to you, grabbing your face to kiss you incredibly obnoxiously in front of this woman. 

it felt like he’d taken all the air out of your lungs. he was electric. 

and he just took a shot, apparently. 

he turns back to the woman, who was still watching—half in disgust.

“you said it was salt, tequila, and lemon for the order, right?” he asked. his hand moved back down to its rightful position hovering just above the shelf of your butt. 

the poor woman could barely speak. it’d become obvious that she’d bought the shot for him, hoping that a mere tequila shot would have him head over heels for her. all she did was nod, a little bit perplexed and a lot a bit embarrassed. 

“thanks for the shot!” 

satoru turned away from the defeated woman, guiding you back towards the bartender on the other end of the counter. 

“feelin’ dangerous tonight, huh?”

“i’m not gonna turn down anything free,” 

you tap your finger on the counter, mulling it over. 

dramatically pouting, you smile up at him, “you hate alcohol though,” 

he smiles down at you, motioning the bartender over. 

“might as well go all in, yeah?”

he orders ‘whatever you’re having,’ opening a tab while taking a sip and wincing at the taste of it. he’s trying, at least, but his dramatics were pulling out all the stops tonight. 

satoru made his way through the party, socializing with nearly every group of people he could find. it was almost as if being alone would kill him. 

you know how sharks continue moving so that they can stay alive? satoru had to have evolved from them. he couldn’t sit still. 

that was the first indication that he’d had too much to drink. his aversion to alcohol left your oh-so-strong boyfriend with the worst alcohol tolerance you’ve ever seen.

one tequila shot with a drink and a half—he’s already thinking hard about every word that comes out of his mouth. 

his hand never left the small of your back. first moving you like a personal shield in front of him when you arrived, he’s now shifted to using you as a point of balance. 

the night flew by when you turned your attention solely on him. you knew he’d be okay, ultimately, and you cut him off before he did anything embarrassing. but seeing him so inebriated was an unfortunate turn of character. 

“ready to go?” you asked. you and satoru were one of the few left, as everyone else had decided to continue the night at a different club. 

you’d figured satoru wouldn’t mind if you cut the night a little bit short. 

“mhm~” 

satoru spoke slowly, eyes closed as he shifted his body weight more onto you. you couldn’t recall how long you’d been sitting in this booth, but you figured you’d fare better back at your apartment. 

you helped him get up, saying goodbye to the remaining sorcerers as you walked the both of you out to the car. 

satoru ran to open your door for you, as he usually did. just a little bit slower, and definitely more intentional this time. 

“baby, you’re too drunk to drive,” you laughed, “c’mon, get in,” 

he looked at the open car door, not hearing a word you just said to him. 

once it’s processed, he closes that door and speed walks to the other side of the car, opening the driver’s side and motioning you to get in. 

all you can do is smile. 

you kiss him on his hand as you pull it off the door. 

“thank you, love”

he looks at you dumbly, waiting for something. 

“can i have a kiss?” 

he didn’t have to ask for permission for that, and you weren’t really sure why he was now. but you were cold, tired, and ready to go to sleep. 

“i’ll give you one if you get in the car and buckle up,”

you’d barely finished the sentence before satoru was running to his side, getting in and buckling up. by the time you’d caught up to him and sat in your own seat, he was leaning over the center console waiting for his prize. 

so stupid, you thought. so cute.

leaning in, you kissed him as if he was made of glass. as he deserved to be kissed. and loved. gently, kindly, softly. he was easy to love. 

he desperately tried to make the kiss deeper, gently moaning into your mouth and speeding up his pace in hopes that you’d catch on. 

you did. you’re a smart one. 

but he didn’t have to know that. 

you let him kiss you as long as he wanted. indulging every swipe of his tongue, answering all of his unsung moans with one of your own, smiling into his mouth so he could taste how happy he made you. 

maybe drunk satoru was good. 

you pulled away. 

“we have to go home, babe,”

satoru hummed in disapproval, dramatically turning out towards the window in defiance. 

“why don’t you love me?”

a little giggle escaped you at his pouting. always so dramatic. 

“sorry, you’re right,” you giggled. you reached for his hand as you began to drive, “i’ll be more considerate in the future,”

“please and thank you,” 

his actions weren’t matching his words. while he threw one of his appropriately nicknamed “toru tantrums,” his fingers found their way to your thigh as he took hold for an ounce of affection. 

you’re convinced he’d explode if he wasn’t touching you for one second. 

the rest of the drive home was uneventful. every five minutes or so, satoru would say “pull over, i’m gonna throw up,” only to follow up with “false alarm!” 

it was hard to believe him after the third time. 

luckily, you both got home in one piece—with no vomit anywhere in sight. you’d consider that a win. 

you help satoru out of the car, his eyes barely open as the two of you walk back into your apartment. 

he quickly turned away from you, throwing up in a bush in the garden outside your building. you rubbed his back gently, trying to soothe him without getting sick yourself. 

it passed, as it always does. but he looks pale, drained, and just a little bit pathetic. 

“i’m just glad it didn’t happen in the car,” he says flatly. 

rather than kicking him while he’s down, you opted for being doting and sweet. 

“feelin’ better now, sweetie?” 

satoru swallows hard, leaning his weight onto you as he struggles to keep his eyes open. 

“i’m never drinking again,”

at least he’s honest, you think, you had to give him that. 

“let’s get to bed, satoru,” you laugh, “i’ll take care of you, ‘kay?”

all content © cinnamoneve 2024. do not repost, modify, steal, or copy without permission.

[sickficideas]

sigma has a very sensitive tummy...sometimes the stress is all too much!

[getwonderhoyd]

[tea-and-secrets]

A while back I threw up at work. My boss heard me and was like "omg go home don't come in if you feel sick." Very nice of him etc. I didn't have the heart to tell him I puked because the shit I'd just taken was SO bad. I took that free day off and didn't look back

.

[nymdraws]

learning csp with some scribbles of These Guys

[vomcom]

The most soft spoken or sophisticated characters (whether that be canon character or oc ) being the most loudest pukers <<<<<<

Is the most peak fanfiction trope that needs to be used more

[outootome]

vomiting to me, I think, is an act of strong devotion and intimacy

What's more devotional than being willing to do something as stressful as vomiting? What's more intimate than being in such a vulnerable position??

Sure there are other ways to show that devotion, and other ways to be intimate, but nothing will ever beat loving someone so much you'd puke your guts out for them

I'm not sure if this makes any sense but I think about it frequently

Like, ppppleaseeeee make me vomit for you. I will be good just please.i need to show you how much I love you aaaaaaaaaah

[soft-for-yoongi]

5 times BTS thought Jungkook was throwing up + the one time he actually is

‐-------------------‐------‐‐----------------

Sick: Jungkook

Caretaker: ot7, each have their individual sections

Tw: gagging, mentions of nausea, vom**, puking, dizziness

Word count: 1,469

Okay... here me out it's a little different from what I usually do, but please let me know what you think!! 🙏 oh and which member was your favourite?? 🤩

‐-------------------‐------‐‐----------------

Namjoon

Jungkook looks adorable, Namjoon thinks as he snaps a photo of the youngest— asleep on the couch in his studio. It wasn't uncommon for the members to relax there, but Jungkook definitely does it the most. Just as Namjoon sends the photo to their group chat, Jungkook wakes with a groan. He stretches before a hand covers his mouth.

Namjoon looks at him, Jungkook's eyes are half lidded and hazy, hand on his month. Wait. Namjoon grabs the trash can under his desk, quickly holding it in front of Jungkook. The youngest takes the bin with a furrowed brow, then erupts with a sneeze, "HIHSH'Ew, ugh. Sorry." Jungkook mumbles, still sleepy. "What's this for?" He adds, lifting the bin slightly.

Namjoon looks at him blankly, "Oh, thank goodness, you're okay. I thought you were about to vomit," Namjoon laughs, half-heartedly because it has happened before, and you can never be too prepared. "Jeeze, hyung, you worry too much." Jungkook giggles.

Seokjin

Jin was peacefully cooking in the kitchen, making one of their go-to's, but still a favourite. The occasional member swings by sometimes to check in and help for a bit, which is why he wasn't surprised when the youngest walked into the kitchen. He opens the fridge and takes a water, taking a few swigs. A drop accidentally goes down the wrong hole, making Jungkook splutter and cough. He throws himself over the sink, coughing and spitting water into the drain.

Seokjin abandons the veggies he was cutting and starts rubbing Jungkook's back, "you okay, Jungkook-ah?" Seokjin said, concerned for the younger. Jungkook nodded and swallowed, recovering from his clumsy drinking. He exhaled, "I'm okay. I swallowed funny and it went down the wrong way." Jungkook wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, Jin still rubbing his spine.

"Christ, you scared me half to death! I thought you were being sick or something." Seokjin admits, dramatically holding his heart. Jungkook chuckled, realising the misunderstanding, "sorry, hyung. I'm fine, I promise." Jungkook replies, earning a sigh and fluffing of his hair from Seokjin.

Hoseok

Put Jungkook with his Hoseokie-hyung and there's bound to be chaos. They were originally practising together, but somehow, it turned into a pirouette competition? Hoseok went first, and he'd say he was pretty graceful, remembering to point his toes as he spun around. Jungkook's high-pitched laugh rang in the air as he held his phone up, recording Hoseok. "Aish!" He exclaimed, "wow, that was hard." Hoseok stopped spinning, after doing approximately 4 turns, again, pretty impressive if you ask him.

"Jungkookie, your turn!" Hoseok beams, quickly flipping out his phone and recording as Jungkook takes the spotlight. He spins in quick succession, one, two, three, four, five?? Jungkook laughs at the very Hoseok-like noises as he films. Jungkook slows down and ends up victorious with 7 turns. Woah, he's kinda dizzy though. Jungkook pants, hand on his knee and arm to his middle.

"Wahhh, Jungkookie!... Hey, you feeling okay?" Hoseok ends the video, jogging to the youngest. He places a hand on his back, heart dropping. "Yeah- just dizzy." Jungkook laughs, straightening up to look at his hyung. "Are you about to puke?" Hoseok blurts, eyes starting to scan for a rubbish bin. "What? No, gosh. I'm fine Hobi-hyung," Jungkook breaks into high-pitched laughter, soon joined by the elder.

Taehyung

Taehyung has an arm wrapped around Jungkook's shoulder, both sharing a blanket as they stare intently at the tv, playing an action movie. Taehyung knew the youngest loved them, but couldn't get as immersed as he could. Thus why when Jungkook made sniffly noises and put a hand over his mouth to stop from sobbing, Taehyung was very confused. And very worried. He had been paying attention and nothing too dramatically sad was happening (he thinks), so what's wrong with Jungkook???

"Jungkookie?" Taehyung holds Jungkook's cheek, body turned to face him. Jungkook looks towards his lap, a little embarrassed, his hand the only thing keeping him from audibly sobbing. "Are you getting sick or something? Your cheeks are pink." Taehyung worries, using his phone light to illuminate Jungkook's face. He sees the shaky fingers cupped over his mouth and assumes the worst. "Do you feel nauseous?" The singer questions.

Jungkook bubbles with a laugh, tears still coming out of his eyes. "I-I'm okay, Taehyungie-hyung." Jungkook uses his sleeve to wipe his eyes, blinking back a couple more and taking some deep breaths. "How are you not sad? Iron man died." Jungkook pouts, maybe Taehyung wasn't paying as much attention as he thought. "I was more worried about you. It looked like you were gonna be sick!" Taehyung frets, pulling the youngest into a hug to calm both himself and Jungkook.

Yoongi

Jungkook sqints at the toilet. It's shiny and looking better already! He'd noticed some dust and decided he'd do a good deed and clean the toilet. Pretty normal thing to do, if you ask Jungkook. Though, Yoongi didn't see it that way when he first walked into the bathroom. The bathroom was half lit and he'd taken his contacts out already. He scans the youngest, who's squated in front of the toilet.

"Kook?" Yoongi says, suddenly next to him and rubbing his back. He's on his toes, ready to grab some pepto or another member. The youngest turns around to look at the older, a confused look on his face. "Do you want some water?" Yoongi offers, wiping his eyes tiredly. Jungkook is still confused as to what his hyung is doing.

"I'm okay, hyung," Jungkook replies. He is enjoying having his back rubbed though, he will admit. "Have you been sick?" Yoongi asks, although the toilet does look oddly clean. "What? Hyung, I'm cleaning the toilet, not throwing up," Jungkook breaks into laughter, clapping his hands. "Oh my bad, good work Kook-ah." Yoongi smiles, "you had me worried."

Jimin

Jimin looks over at the youngest from his position on the couch. Jungkook's face is puffy and he's got two pieces of toast in front of him. Plain toast. No butter, no jam, nothing. They've only got a recording session later this evening, so usually Jungkook works himself quite an impressive appetite even though it's only breakfast. He watches the youngest cringe with each bite, looking like he's zoning out.

He turns off his phone to pay more attention to Jungkook. He sees the younger's face twinge in discomfort or pain—he can't quite tell—and then move a hand under the table to place on his belly. Gotcha. Jimin's mood drops and he walks over to Jungkook, placing a hand on his back. Jungkook doesn't even resist the touch, not bothering to put up a facade as he pushes his plate away, resting his forehead on the table.

"Not feeling the best?" Jimin asks, "I feel sick." Jungkook replies and the dancer hums sympathetically. Jimin slides in the seat next to him, concern apparent on his face. "Kook, do you know what's upsetting you?" Jimin frowns worriedly. "I don't know, hyung... my stomach hurts." Jungkook says and then registers that these are all his tell-tale signs he's about to throw up. He moans at the realisation.

"Jungkook do you need me to bring the bin over?" Jimin stills his hand on Jungkook's back, able to hear the younger's stomach throwing a fit from where he's sitting. Jungkook lifts his head enough to give Jimin a nod. With haste, Jimin grabs the trash can from in the kitchen and brings it back. Jungkook takes the bin and lets it rest in his lap, staring at the meager contents and feeling his stomach churn unhappily.

Jimin can see goosebumps on Jungkook's arms and wishes relief for him so badly. Seeing the youngest pale and quiet, makes Jimin want to switch places with him. The weight of anticipation is soon ended when Jungkook coughs lightly and then breaks out into gags, bringing the bin right up to his face. "Deep breaths, Kook." Jimin says, worry etched onto his face.

Jungkook can only hiccup and release strained breaths, not quite what Jimin wants right now. "Hyung— I'm g-gonna throw up—" Jungkook whimpers, back arching into a 'c' as he retches productively. Jimin pats his back nervously, eyeing the bathroom door, considering relocating the sick maknae.

Gags fill Jungkook's ears and the smell of his previous toast is enough to make him go green in the face. Jungkook tries to focus on the hand on his back and the massaging of his neck but his stomach clearly has other plans. The organ squeezes harshly at every move Jungkook makes, forcing bill up his throat. "I hate this, hyung..." Jungkook mumbles, hugging the bin close.

"Yeah, being sick is no fun, it's a good thing you're healthy." Jimin kisses the singer's hair, "most of the time."

[sickly-qt]

I'm Okay

Sorry I've been gone, I got hit with a case of The Big Sad.

I'm better now, kinda. But Drew and Finn creeped into my little brain today and wouldn't leave so here you go! The aftermath of this fic. There's no emeto in this one, just fluff.

~~~

Drew was sitting with her knees to her chest, picking at the pilling of Finn’s sweater that was draped over her legs. She was no longer nauseous and some color had returned to her face thanks to some intravenous fluids and antiemetics, but she was exhausted.

She had sent Finn to get her something small to eat now that she felt that she could keep something down, but she also wanted him to be doing something other than sitting and anxiously tapping his foot on the linoleum while they both waited for the doctor. 

“Alright, I have chicken tenders, fries and a mint chocolate chip milkshake.” Finn said, fumbling through the privacy curtain with his hands full of food.

“Thanks,” Drew mumbled, pushing herself up to take the food from Finn. “Did you get anything for yourself?” 

“Uh, no.” He sat down in the plastic chair next to the bed and leaned back, running his hands through his hair, leg right back to bouncing, his heel tapping on the floor. “I’m alright, did the doctor come in at all while I was gone?” 

She opened up the containers the food was in and nudged it toward him then leaned back sipping on her milkshake, “No, a nurse came in and stole some of my blood, but that’s it. I’m not going to eat all of this, you should have some.”

Finn sighed and shook his head, “I’m not hungry, eating would probably just make me sick if I’m being completely honest with you.” He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, fidgeting with his cuticles, one knee still bouncing.

Drew moved everything to the weird bed table and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, grabbing his hands, noticing the irritation his picking was causing. 

“Stop that,” she kept one hand on his and moved the other to his face, making him look at her, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just- You scared me. I’ll feel a lot better once we know you’re okay and we’re home.”

“I’m okay, Finn. Look at me, I’m okay. I drank like half of that milkshake and I’m not even nauseous.”

Before Finn had a chance to respond, a tiny Asian woman in scrubs threw the curtain open with a huge smile on her face “Hi, I’m Dr. Lee. I’m going to be talking to you about your baby today, and giving you a quick ultrasound just to make sure everything is in tiptop shape before we get you out of here.” She said, reading through Drew’s charts, “How are we feeling? Are the meds helping?”

“Uh, yeah. I feel a lot better actually.” Drew responded, settling back into the hospital bed. 

“Awesome, great. So obviously morning sickness is very normal, but being sick to the point of passing out due to dehydration is not. It says here on your intake that you’ve been experiencing pretty severe symptoms but this is the first time that it’s gotten this bad?”

Drew nodded, “Yeah, this has never happened before”

“Okay, well judging from your bloodwork you’re at least 9 weeks along which is typically where morning sickness peaks. We’re going to get a look at the baby in a couple to get a better idea of where exactly you’re at but most likely the worst is behind you. I will warn you though that sometimes women experience some kind of morning sickness the entirety of their pregnancy, I unfortunately can’t guarantee that won’t be you… But! we will be getting you set up with some anti-nausea meds and antiemetics to hopefully stop something like this from happening again.” Dr. Lee craned her head around Drew to look at Finn, “You okay over there, Dad?”

He had resumed his position, elbows on knees, picking at his hands, “Huh? Yeah, I’m okay just- listening.”

Drew knew that something more was up but that was something to be unpacked not in the emergency room while she was hooked up to a million machines.

“Okay.” She clapped, “If we’re ready, we’ll get the ultrasound out of the way and then get you out of here.”

Drew wasn’t expecting to feel as odd as she did, when she had to lift her shirt for the doctor to smear a weird jelly on her stomach. She looked over at Finn who must’ve felt her eyes and looked up at her before standing and sitting halfway on the bed next to her, grabbing her hand.

She wasn’t expecting to be scared. She didn’t actually think there was a weird alien inside of her but until now she didn’t have any confirmation that there wasn’t. She was really hoping everything was okay.

Dr. Lee was silent as she moved the wand around Drew’s stomach which only fed Drew’s anxiety. Then just as quickly as the thought entered her mind a smile broke on the doctor’s face.

“There we go.” She turned the screen to face Drew and Finn. “A perfect little baby.” She went on to point out all the little parts of a little person but both Finn and Drew were frozen. Their situation suddenly very real.

“Do you want to hear the heartbeat?” Dr. Lee asked.

Drew opened her mouth to answer but her voice got stuck in her throat.

“Yes. Yeah, we would, please.” Finn said from her side. 

Drew gasped when the doctor turned a small knob in the monitor and a steady beat filled the tiny little alcove that in that moment was just theirs.

“We’re having a baby.” Drew whispered.

“We’re having a baby.” Finn repeated, pressing a kiss into her temple. 

[danafeelingsick]

out of all of the g.enshin men, k.aeya might be the one i'd give the kink™. it just suits him, with how much he talks about drinking wine and how flirty he is.

i just love to imagine him taking a date out for drinks, and of course it wasn't his plan from the start, but what if he accidentally overdid it on the alcohol. then you, his date, would have to, you know, take care of him? hold his hair while he empties his stomach into the tavern's restroom, rubbing his back and holding him so he doesn't fall over or miss the toilet. it seems the booze makes even bolder than what he is usually, the noises he makes are downright shameless, almost like he's overacting them.

he might just let you rub his belly too, whining that his clothes, his corset and leggings, are way too tight, then undoing a button or two. he doesn't miss the way you look at him either. he might lean on you, and let you comfort him after the downright disgusting experience. well, maybe for you. when he's done, he lets you walk him home, resting his head on your shoulders, joking about puking all over you. of course, he has enough control of the situation to not let this happen, even though he is hiccuping and slurring every word. you almost think he might want this to happen~

[seth-whumps]

yes I'm emetophobic. yes I still read sickfics. yes they do throw up sometimes. yes I still read them even though I'm emetophobic. three years ago I wouldn't have been able to. this is growth. also the fics slap so of course I read them.

[caspersickfanfics]

Prompt List | AO3 | Ask | Rules

Warnings: Vomiting, amnesia, mentions of other symptoms including headaches/brain fog/passing out, mentions of blood, speculated poisoning, trauma response

A/N: Yeah so... this is none of the WIPs I've been working on for months, actually, but I just Needed to get something done this weekend, so. Here we are. I have Ideas for a part 2 for this and if you read closely you might be able to pick up on some intentional loose ends but also I'd feel irresponsible adding to my WIP list at this point. We'll see. Anyway, this is for @monthofsick day 21: Sleepy Sickie

It’s the dead of night, amidst a humid summer heat, when Cyno shows up at Tighnari’s doorstep, feverish and ill. He’s trembling all over, downtrodden, and exhausted. His hair is sweat damp, his face marred by tear tracks, just barely visible in the lamplight.

Tighnari guides him inside. He has Cyno sit, and then wordlessly checks that his body is in one piece. For the most part, yes, it is, but he makes quick work bandaging a dozen or so surface level wounds. By the time he’s done, the matra has dozed off, slumped back against the chair with his head lolling on his chest. Tighnari wants him to rest, but worries about his fever and gently wakes him to gather more information.

“Hey,” Tighnari says quietly. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“Tighnari?”

“Mhm.”

There’s a flash of panic across his face, and Cyno’s muscles tighten. Responding immediately, Tighnari places a firm hand on his chest, and while Cyno stops struggling to stand, the tension doesn’t fade, his eyes searching Tighnari’s face. Tighnari feels his brow furrow when Cyno asks, “Where are we?”

“We’re at home,” he states. His voice is masked with a carefully curated calm. He can feel Cyno’s heart rushing far too quickly under his hand. “We’re safe.”

Cyno looks completely lost, but after checking and double checking his surroundings - as if he doesn’t believe his eyes - slowly relaxes. He still looks off-kilter.

Tighnari’s unease heightens. “You don’t remember why you came here?”

The matra’s face scrunches up, confused and distressed. “I don’t even remember coming here,” he mumbles. He hardly sounds like himself, voice even lower than usual, words slightly slurred. A shiver runs through him.

“It’s alright,” Tighnari reassures. “Let’s not worry about that. If I give you a list of possible symptoms, can you let me know which ones you’re experiencing, or if I'm missing any?”

Cyno agrees with a nod, and proceeds to respond to the rest of Tighnari’s questioning in a similar fashion. Headache, muscle pain, stomach ache, nausea, hot flashes, shivering, weakness, lightheadedness, fatigue, brain fog… Tighnari clocks the silent but affirmative responses to each item on the list with a growing sense of dread.

“You don’t remember if you ate anything suspicious recently, do you?”

“Don’t know.” It’s clear he’s running out of energy. When his head dips forward, Tighnari cups Cyno’s cheek in his hand. “Wanna sleep, Nari.”

Again, Tighnari wants to let him sleep, but Cyno’s needs take priority. “Not yet. Stay awake for me, love - can you do that?” 

Cyno sniffles sadly, but his eyes remain open, if glazed. They’re certainly bloodshot.

Tighnari cleans him up. He hopes to help ground him. Sometimes Cyno needs time to settle in a given location, and things like a warm bath can help.

It doesn’t seem to make much of a difference this time, but at least he’s no longer covered in mud and blood and… well, the sweat reappears quickly enough. Cyno all but falls into the bed, sending his partner a look of utter betrayal when Tighnari guides him to sit rather than lying down right away. He smiles in apology and squeezes Cyno’s hand. “Just a bit longer, hm? You’re doing so well.”

When Tighnari offers him water, though, any color left in Cyno’s face drains in an instant, and the next, he’s pitching forward with a retch.

“Oh–” Tighnari quickly steps back, sets the glass on a table, and helps Cyno over the edge of the bed. Nothing comes up, and it’s just strands of saliva dripping to the ground, but he heaves again and again. There’s a strangled noise, like he’s trying to speak. Tighnari tries to quiet him.

“Shhh, Cyno. Settle. It’s okay.”

“I— hurrrrgh!” His body is relentless, abdomen clenching in a cruel attempt to expel something that simply isn’t there. He groans.

“I can’t,” Cyno grates out. It hurts him to do, and he’s thrown into a violent coughing fit that devolves into more heaving and more pain. He’s shaking horribly.

“It’s okay,” Tighnari repeats. He'd do just about anything to make this stop, and yet, the only thing to do is wait it out. “Oh, Cyno… just breathe.”

When he finally regains control of himself, Cyno is gutted in a way that he can’t put words to. Instead, he takes a deep breath, and releases a single sob. Tears stream down his face - and he doesn’t understand why. Tighnari is alarmed, checking him again for injury, asking about whether he’s hurt himself internally. He shakes his head and pushes Tighnari's hands away, because there's nothing they can do to fix this.

“Need to sleep,” he moans, and it’s desperate. His stomach is going to start revolting again if he stays awake much longer, or maybe he’ll simply pass out. And he craves sleep. So, so badly. After a moment, Tighnari nods.

“That's alright, love. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

–––

Send asks here!

[i-eat-worlds]

Starcross Part 6

We’re Back to the present day! This chapter is early because I’ll be going to do nerd shit in the woods for the weekend

Content: vomiting/emeto, food mentions, fear of punishent, conditioned whumpee, comfort

Free Space, AFS Starcross, 5/5/4763 Ziar sat in the shower, letting the sonic waves wash over her. The vibrations were soothing, though not like warm water would’ve been. She was saving her water ration for Kim, since they’d need a bath and she doubted they’d be able to shower on their own. Stasis was exhausting, and their ankle couldn't be comfortable to stand on.

Sighing, she reached out her hand to turn off the shower. As much as she wanted to stay, there was stuff to do. The prospect of a highly caffeinated beverage was starting to sound more appealing. She wrapped a towel around her waist then stepped out of the shower, using the railings to support herself until she could reach her crutches.

The showers and the berths had the advantage of being close, just a couple meters across the hallway, and Ziar gratefully collapsed back into the mattress. It was tempting to let her eyes close and drift off, but she forced herself to stay awake.

After a couple minutes of blissful laying down, she heaved herself back up. She needed to redress the bite wound and replace the dermafibran around her connector. Osteomyelitis was not all it was cracked up to be. When they landed, she’d needed to go out and buy more. Just another thing for the list.

Reaching under the bed, she pulled out the small box of wound care supplies she kept underneath for when she was too tired or sore to get to the infirmary. She pulled the latch open and pulled out what she’d need, grabbing the DF pack and some dressings.

Carefully, she peeled off the bandage on her upper arm. The double-crescent shaped wound was looking better than it had last night, with the bleeding stopped and wiped away. It only produced a dull throb now, and was clear of any pus or redness. And really, what more could she ask for?

She pressed another bandage over it, feeling the cold tissue growth solution it was impregnated with fill the wound. After crumpling up the trash and tossing it into the bin, she reached for the drape so she could take care of the stump. Before she could get it unfolded, her communicator buzzed with Oka’s ringtone.

This was gonna be good.

“What’cha need?”

*** The weapon had tried to eat the food. It really had.

Oka had been so nice, letting it eat real food, people food, instead of bland slurries and nutritive bricks with the texture of concrete.

Previously, it had only ever been fed people food as a treat. A scrap off the table for breaking a course record. This was so much more than that.

The meat was smokey and salty, and the fruit was sweet but also a little bit tart. This was already a lot, but the bread was fluffy and soft. Despite it being relatively small in quantity, it sat heavy in their stomach, like a bowling ball.

Just as it had opened its mouth to thank them, its stomach rolled and squeezed. Its eyes went wide as every piece of food it had just eaten came back up.

No, no, no!

Vomit splattered all over the blanket that they’d given it, chunks of meat and half-digested fruit still visible. Its throat was on fire, acid burning at the back of its mouth, as it stared in horror at the mess it had made.

In its peripheral vision, it could see Oka moving around it, and braced itself for the blow. They had provided with food, real food, good food, and it had made a mess. It had been trained to have more self control than that, to be better. It could already feel the acid burns on its hands from having to scrub the floor until it could see its face in it.

Would it even be able to stand on its ankle?

A green bag with a plastic rim appeared in front of it. “Here, use this.” They didn’t sound angry or annoyed. They must’ve been the type who enjoyed meeting it out, then. Just great.

The blanket was pulled away from their legs, and even though Ziar had given it some sort of loose fitting tunic to cover it up, it still felt entirely exposed. Goosebumps raised on its skin.“I’ll get you something clean.”

It swallowed, gripping the bag tightly as Oka dug through a cabinet. When its stomach turned again, the vomit thankfully landed in the bag. The contents were mostly bile; there wasn’t much left in its stomach for it to throw up.

Another blanket was tossed over its legs, shielding them from the cool air. “Do you want some water?”

Their words washed over it as it tried to get its mouth to work. “Yes. Thank you, sir.”

The sound of the sink felt a thousand times louder than it probably was as they filled up a small cup. Oka carefully nestled the cup in between its shaking hands. It was half full, probably in an effort to conserve water. “Take small sips, alright. I don’t want to upset your stomach more.”

It obeyed, taking small sips while they watched it. Maybe they were waiting for a functionality report? Then it hit them. It needed to clean up its mess. They wanted to see if it would be responsible and solve its own problems. They didn’t want an automaton with no thoughts. It needed to make itself useful.

The blanket was resting in a bright orange bag on the sink. It finished the last of the water so that it wouldn’t spill, then pulled the blanket away from it. While the sink wasn’t exactly close, it could make it, bad ankle notwithstanding. It pushed its legs over the edge of the bed.

It needed to be useful.

“Kim-” Oka said, stepping forward, but it was too late.

It pushed off the bed, letting its uninjured foot hit the oor st. Assuming success, it took another step.

The moment its second foot contacted the oor it crumbled, letting out a yelp as it came crashing down. Pain pulsed up its leg, and it couldn't help the tears that well up in its eyes. It knew that it wouldn’t be able to get back up.

All it did was make things worse.

Oka squatted down next to it. “It’s okay,” they said, reaching out a hand and placing it on its shoulder.

It shuddered, and they pulled their hand away. “It was-Unit KM-4682 was going to clean its…its…” it choked out, body racked by sobs.

“You don’t need to do that, aza.” It wasn’t familiar with that word. It probably meant “stupid,” if it had to guess.

All it could do was cry harder. It was falling apart, on the floor, like a fucking baby. It was weak and useless and it was a small wonder that it had been kept alive as long as it had. Maybe they were right to kill it, to remove its useless body from the universe.

“You’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” A blanket settled over its shoulders.

It pulled the edges closer, wrapping itself tighter. Oka smiled at it gently. “It’s alright, aza. I’m going to call Ziar so we can get you back up on the table, alright. You just stay still.”

It nodded. An order. Something it could do without trying to guess if it was right. Something easy.

“You’re safe now. We’re not going to hurt you,” they repeated.

It wasn't quite sure what that was supposed to mean. The weapon had always been safe, from everything but its own failures. And maybe things could be painful, maybe punishments and corrections weren’t fun, but it had never been hurt.

Still, Oka seemed to think that what was happening to it now was better. It bowed its head in respect. “Thank you, sir.”

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[skelespidey]

mm im gonna try 2 purge a little more