#sicktember 2024 day seven

[sicknessbysalem]

Day Seven: Borrowed Hoodie | Sicktember 2024

this is less prompt compliant and more having this idea in my brain and needing an outlet… oh well.

if you have any requests, questions, comments, etc., send them my way!

tw emeto, getting sick in class, sort of sick in public but not?

Saylor woke up to the soft morning light filtering through her curtains, the start of another day on campus. As she stretched and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she became aware of a strange, unsettled feeling in her stomach. It wasn’t nausea, exactly, but a persistent bubbling sensation, like her stomach was doing flips for no apparent reason.

She frowned slightly, placing a hand on her abdomen as she sat up in bed. It wasn’t unusual for her to wake up with the occasional stomach grumble—her diet wasn’t always the best—but this felt different. It wasn’t painful, just… off. Shaking it off, she got out of bed, determined not to let it bother her.

Saylor went about her usual morning routine, getting dressed and grabbing a quick breakfast before heading out the door. The bubbly feeling in her stomach persisted, but she pushed it to the back of her mind. She had classes to attend, and there was no time to worry about a little discomfort. Besides, she wasn’t nauseous, so it couldn’t be anything serious.

As she walked across campus to her first class, the chilly morning air helped distract her from the strange sensations in her stomach. The campus was already bustling with activity, students rushing to their classes, and the familiar sights and sounds helped ground her. Still, every now and then, she’d feel a little gurgle or rumble from her stomach, a subtle reminder that something wasn’t quite right.

By the time she settled into her seat for her morning lecture, Saylor could feel the bubbling sensation in her stomach growing more persistent. She crossed her arms over her abdomen, trying to apply a bit of pressure in hopes of easing the discomfort. It wasn’t painful, but it was definitely distracting.

As the lecture began, Saylor found it harder to focus. She tried to pay attention to the professor’s words, but her mind kept wandering back to her stomach. It was as if her stomach was staging a quiet rebellion, grumbling and churning in a way that made her feel uneasy. She shifted in her seat, trying to find a more comfortable position, but nothing seemed to help.

About halfway through the lecture, Saylor started noticing a new sensation—a faint, burning feeling in her throat that she recognized all too well. Acid reflux. She swallowed hard, trying to ignore it, but it only seemed to make her stomach feel more unsettled. The bubbling feeling intensified, and she could feel the acid rising, causing her to burp quietly into her hand.

She continued to burp discreetly, each one leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. The acid was making her stomach feel more and more questionable, but it still wasn’t enough to make her worry. At least, not yet. She hoped it was just a passing thing, something that would go away once she got some food in her system or drank more water.

But as the lecture went on, the discomfort in her stomach grew. It was no longer just an annoyance—it was becoming harder to ignore. She felt bloated and uncomfortable, the bubbling sensation making her feel as though something was brewing inside her. Her stomach seemed to be trying to tell her something, but she couldn’t quite figure out what.

As the end of the lecture approached, Saylor suddenly felt a strange wave of unease wash over her. It wasn’t nausea, but a deep, unsettling feeling that something wasn’t right. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was wrong, but her stomach seemed to be protesting more fiercely than before. It twisted and churned, and she felt a sudden urge to leave the room.

Without a word, Saylor gathered her things and quietly slipped out of the classroom, trying not to draw any attention to herself. She didn’t know if she was going to be sick or if she just needed some fresh air, but she couldn’t sit still any longer. Her stomach was too unpredictable, and she didn’t want to take any chances.

She made her way down the hall, heading for the nearest restroom. The feeling in her stomach was intensifying, a mix of bubbling, burning, and general discomfort that made her anxious. She wasn’t sure what her body was trying to tell her—whether she was going to throw up, have diarrhea, or if her stomach was just mad at her for some unknown reason.

But as soon as she reached the restroom, the feeling seemed to settle, leaving her standing there, unsure of what to do. Nothing happened—no sudden sickness, no relief, just the same uncomfortable sensation in her stomach. She leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. Her stomach wasn’t happy, but it wasn’t doing anything specific either. It was just… there, a constant reminder that something was off.

After a few minutes, Saylor decided to head back to class. She didn’t feel any better, but she wasn’t any worse either, and she didn’t want to miss the end of the lecture. As she made her way back to her seat, she felt a sudden chill wash over her, the kind that usually preceded something worse. Her hands felt cold, and she could feel a shiver run down her spine.

Julian noticed her return and gave her a concerned look. "You okay?" he whispered as she sat back down beside him.

Saylor nodded, though she could feel the coldness seeping deeper into her bones. "Yeah, just… got a little cold all of a sudden," she replied, trying to brush it off.

Julian frowned, sensing that something wasn’t right. Without a word, he slipped off his hoodie and handed it to her. "Here, take this. You’re freezing."

Saylor accepted the hoodie gratefully, pulling it on and wrapping it around herself. The warmth was a small comfort, but it didn’t do much to ease the unsettling feeling in her stomach. She could feel her body trembling slightly, the chill making her feel even more uneasy.

As the lecture continued, Saylor tried to focus on the professor’s words, but her mind kept drifting back to her stomach. The bubbling sensation was still there, and the acid reflux was making her throat burn with every quiet burp. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, but she wasn’t sure what to do about it. All she knew was that she felt cold, uncomfortable, and strangely vulnerable.

-

As the day wore on, Saylor’s unease only grew. The unsettling feeling in her stomach that had greeted her in the morning had refused to subside. If anything, it was getting worse.

By the time she and Julian headed to the cafeteria for lunch, she was feeling distinctly uncomfortable. Her stomach wasn’t just gurgling anymore—it felt heavy, almost like a lead weight was sitting in her abdomen, pressing down on her insides.

Julian noticed her hesitation as they picked out their food, his brow furrowing in concern. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked, grabbing a tray and glancing over at her.

Saylor forced a smile, trying to push through the discomfort. “Yeah, just… not really hungry, I guess,” she replied, though her stomach’s increasingly unsettled state made her words sound less convincing even to herself.

Julian gave her a skeptical look but didn’t push the issue. “Well, let’s sit down and see if you feel better after eating something. Sometimes it helps,” he suggested.

Saylor nodded, picking out something light—a small salad and some fruit. She wasn’t sure if she could handle anything heavier, not with the way her stomach was twisting and turning inside her. The acid reflux from earlier still lingered, and every so often, she’d have to stifle a small burp, feeling the bitter taste rise in her throat.

They found a quiet spot in the cafeteria and sat down, Julian digging into his food with his usual enthusiasm. Saylor, however, found herself staring at her tray, her appetite nonexistent. She picked at the salad, taking a few tentative bites, but each mouthful seemed to sit uneasily in her stomach, adding to the growing discomfort.

Julian noticed her lack of enthusiasm and frowned. “You’re really not eating much, Saylor. If you’re not feeling well, maybe you should skip the afternoon classes and rest?”

Saylor shook her head, not wanting to admit how badly she was feeling. “I’ll be fine. I just need to get through the day,” she insisted, though her voice lacked its usual conviction. She took another bite of salad, but the moment the food hit her stomach, she regretted it.

Her stomach gurgled ominously, the sensation more intense than before. She could feel the food settling uncomfortably, like it was struggling to find a place amidst the chaos in her gut. The bloating started soon after, her stomach swelling slightly as if in protest to the food she was forcing down. She shifted in her seat, trying to alleviate the pressure, but it only seemed to make her feel worse.

Julian kept a close eye on her, his concern deepening. “You’re really not looking good, Saylor,” he said softly, his voice filled with worry.

Saylor shook her head again, more firmly this time. “I’ll be fine,” she repeated, though she wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince Julian or herself. “I just need to get through my classes. Maybe it’s just something I ate for breakfast.”

Julian wasn’t convinced, but he knew better than to push her when she was like this. “Alright, but if you need anything, text me, okay? Even if it’s just to leave class again.”

“Thanks, Jules,” Saylor replied, managing a small smile despite the discomfort. “I will.”

As they finished their meal, Saylor’s stomach continued to gurgle and churn, the bloating growing worse with each passing minute. She could feel the pressure building in her abdomen, her stomach feeling tight and full, like it was stretched to its limits. Every now and then, a small wave of nausea would hit her, but she pushed it down, determined not to let it get the best of her.

After lunch, they parted ways, Julian heading to his class while Saylor trudged off to hers. Her stomach was more clearly upset now, the discomfort becoming harder to ignore. The bloating made her feel sluggish and heavy, each step sending a small jolt of pain through her abdomen. She tried to focus on her surroundings, to distract herself from the growing unease, but it was a losing battle.

By the time she reached her first afternoon class, Saylor was struggling. The bloating had worsened, her stomach now feeling like a balloon ready to burst. The acid reflux persisted, and she found herself burping more frequently, each one bringing with it that familiar, unpleasant taste. She took a seat near the back of the classroom, hoping to go unnoticed, but the pressure in her stomach was making it difficult to sit still.

As the lecture began, Saylor tried to concentrate on the professor’s words, but her stomach had other plans. The churning sensation was intensifying, the bubbling growing more erratic, and she could feel the food from lunch sitting uneasily in her stomach. She placed a hand over her abdomen, trying to ease the pressure, but it didn’t help.

The minutes ticked by slowly, each one dragging on as Saylor’s discomfort grew. She could feel the sweat starting to bead on her forehead, her body reacting to the growing turmoil in her gut. The bloating was becoming unbearable, her stomach feeling tight and full, like it was about to burst. She shifted in her seat, trying to find some relief, but it only made the pressure worse.

Then, without warning, the feeling in her stomach shifted. The bubbling and churning suddenly moved downward, the pressure in her abdomen increasing as her stomach began to cramp. The discomfort that had been centered in her upper stomach now radiated lower, and Saylor knew she needed to get to a bathroom—fast.

She didn’t wait for the professor to finish his sentence; she quickly gathered her things and slipped out of the classroom without a word, hoping no one noticed her hurried exit. The urgency in her stomach was growing with each step, the cramping becoming more intense as she made her way down the hall.

When she finally reached the bathroom, Saylor rushed into the nearest stall, barely managing to close the door behind her before she collapsed onto the toilet. The moment she sat down, her stomach released, and she was hit with a wave of diarrhea, the force of it catching her off guard.

She gasped, her body shuddering as the cramping intensified, her stomach emptying itself with a ferocity that left her breathless. The pressure that had been building in her abdomen finally had an outlet, but it brought little relief. Her stomach continued to cramp and twist, the discomfort almost unbearable as her body purged itself of whatever was causing the upset.

Saylor leaned forward, her head resting in her hands as she tried to steady her breathing. The bathroom was quiet, the only sound the occasional gurgle from her stomach and the soft splash in the toilet. She felt weak, her body drained from the intensity of the experience, but at least the bloating had subsided slightly.

After what felt like an eternity, the cramping finally began to ease. Saylor sat there for a few minutes longer, waiting to see if her stomach had anything else to throw at her, but the worst seemed to be over. She slowly stood up, her legs shaky, and flushed the toilet before leaning against the stall wall for support.

Her stomach still felt unsettled, but the pressure was gone, leaving behind a dull ache in its place. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Despite the ordeal, she felt like she could make it to her next class without any issues. The urgency had passed, and though she wasn’t feeling great, she wasn’t ready to call it a day just yet.

After cleaning herself up and washing her hands, Saylor stepped out of the bathroom, taking a moment to collect herself. She still felt a little shaky, her stomach tender and sore, but she was determined to push through. She couldn’t afford to miss any more classes, not with exams coming up.

With a final deep breath, she headed back to class, hoping the worst was behind her.

-

Saylor walked into her next class hoping that the worst of her stomach troubles were behind her. The bathroom break had provided some relief, and she clung to the hope that whatever was upsetting her stomach had passed. But as she took her seat next to Julian, her optimism quickly faded. Her stomach, far from calming down, seemed to be growing more active, the grumbling and bubbling inside her returning with a vengeance.

Julian glanced over at her, immediately picking up on the tension in her posture. “You okay?” he asked quietly, his eyes filled with concern.

Saylor gave him a tight-lipped smile, not wanting to worry him. “I’m fine,” she lied, though she could feel the discomfort in her stomach intensifying with each passing minute. She tried to focus on the lecture, but the words of the professor were just background noise to the increasingly loud complaints coming from her stomach.

Her gut was churning, each twist and turn making her feel more nauseous. The lunch she had forced down earlier was sitting heavily in her stomach, every movement making it slosh around unpleasantly. She could feel the pressure building again, her abdomen growing tighter as the bloating returned, worse than before. Each breath she took seemed to push the nausea higher, until it felt like it was lodged in her throat, threatening to spill over at any moment.

Julian noticed her growing discomfort, the way she kept shifting in her seat, her hand pressed against her stomach as if trying to calm the storm inside. “Saylor, if you’re not feeling well, we can leave,” he whispered, his voice filled with concern.

Saylor shook her head, her pride getting the better of her. “I’ll be fine,” she insisted, though the words felt hollow. She could feel the acid reflux creeping up again, each small burp bringing with it that familiar, bitter taste. Her stomach was gurgling loudly now, the noises audible even in the quiet of the lecture hall, and she felt herself flushing with embarrassment.

As the minutes ticked by, the nausea became impossible to ignore. Her stomach was in full rebellion, each gurgle and churn sending sharp waves of discomfort through her. She sat rigidly in her chair, afraid to move, knowing that one wrong move could make her vomit right there in the lecture hall. The pressure in her abdomen was unbearable, the bloating making her feel like she was going to burst.

Julian kept glancing at her, worry etched across his face. He could see that she was struggling, and he desperately wanted to help, but he knew Saylor well enough to know that pushing her too much would only make things worse. Instead, he stayed close, ready to help if she needed it.

As the lecture continued, Saylor’s condition deteriorated rapidly. The acid reflux worsened, each burp bringing with it a stronger wave of nausea. She could feel her stomach turning, the contents sloshing around ominously. Her breath hitched, and she swallowed hard, trying to keep everything down, but it was a losing battle.

Toward the middle of class, Saylor felt a sharp, painful gag rise up in her throat. She clamped her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle it, but the motion only made her stomach lurch violently. Before she could stop it, a small but sudden wave of vomit surged up, spilling onto the tabletop in front of her.

The act of vomiting was so sudden that it startled her, and she could feel her face burning with embarrassment. She barely had time to react before another gag hit her, her stomach contracting painfully as it threatened to bring up more.

Julian noticed immediately, his eyes widening in alarm. He knew Saylor well enough to know that this was just the beginning—once she started throwing up, it was hard for her to stop. Without a word, he gently but firmly took her by the arm, guiding her out of the lecture hall as quickly and quietly as possible, ignoring the mess she had left behind. He didn’t want to draw any more attention to her, knowing how mortified she must be feeling.

Saylor was too focused on holding herself together to protest. Her stomach was churning violently, the pressure in her abdomen so intense that she felt like she was going to explode. The nausea was overwhelming, her head spinning as Julian helped her out of the classroom.

As they made their way down the hallway, Julian kept his arm around her, steadying her as she stumbled slightly, the world around her blurring with the intensity of her sickness. “We’re almost there,” he murmured, his voice calm and reassuring. “Just a little further, Saylor. You’re doing great.”

Saylor could barely respond, her throat burning from the acid, her stomach heaving uncontrollably. She was fighting with everything she had not to throw up again, but she could feel it building, a tidal wave that was threatening to overtake her at any moment.

By the time they reached the exit, Saylor was trembling, her whole body shaking with the effort of holding back the inevitable. Julian quickly led her outside, the cool air hitting her like a splash of cold water. It helped, but only slightly. She could feel the bile rising in her throat, and she knew she didn’t have much time.

“Let’s get you back to the townhouse,” Julian said gently. He kept a firm but gentle grip on her arm, ready to catch her if she stumbled.

Saylor nodded weakly, too overwhelmed by the nausea to do anything but follow Julian’s lead. Her stomach was a roiling mess, the bloating making her feel like she was going to burst, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold it back much longer. She just hoped she could make it home before the next wave hit.

As Julian and Saylor hurried down the quiet campus road, it quickly became apparent that Saylor’s condition was deteriorating rapidly. Her pace slowed, her steps becoming unsteady as the nausea grew more overwhelming with each passing minute. Julian kept a close eye on her, his concern mounting as he noticed the way her hand gripped her stomach, her breathing shallow and labored.

"Saylor," Julian said softly, stopping in his tracks and gently tugging on her arm to get her to stop as well. "We can take a break. You don’t have to push yourself."

Saylor barely registered his words, her entire focus on the turmoil in her stomach. The bloating had become unbearable, her abdomen so distended that it felt like a balloon about to burst. Each step sent a sharp jolt of pain through her, the nausea so intense that it made her head spin. The acidic taste of her lunch—salad and fruit—lingered in her mouth, only adding to the sickening sensation that threatened to overwhelm her.

She tried to respond, but the dizziness was making it hard to focus, her vision blurring as she stumbled slightly. Julian was quick to catch her, steadying her as she swayed on her feet.

"Just… just need a minute," Saylor mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. She couldn’t stand up straight, the pressure in her abdomen forcing her to hunch over slightly, her hand pressed firmly against her stomach as if trying to keep everything inside.

Julian glanced around, relieved that the road was quiet and deserted at this time of day. He gently guided Saylor to the side of the road, close to a patch of grass where she could sit if she needed to. But before they could get that far, Saylor’s legs gave out, and she collapsed to her knees, her body trembling with the effort of holding back the inevitable.

"Saylor," Julian said urgently, crouching down beside her and placing a hand on her back. "It’s okay. Just take a moment. I’m here."

Saylor nodded weakly, but her stomach was in such bad shape that she could barely respond. It was roiling, churning violently as it tried to reject the lunch she had eaten earlier. She could feel the acidic taste of the salad and fruit rising in her throat, the sensation making her gag involuntarily. Her entire body was trembling, the dizziness so intense that it felt like the ground was tilting beneath her.

Julian watched her carefully, his heart aching for his friend. He could see how much pain she was in, the way her stomach was distended and bloated, the way she struggled to keep herself upright. He knew that whatever was happening, it wasn’t going to stop until her stomach had purged itself of whatever was causing the upset.

"Do you want me to rub your stomach?" Julian offered gently, his hand still resting on her back. "It might help settle it."

Saylor hesitated, but she knew she couldn’t keep going like this. The pressure in her stomach was unbearable, and she needed some kind of relief, even if it meant risking vomiting again. "Yeah… please," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Julian shifted behind her, his movements careful and steady. He wrapped one arm around her waist, holding her steady as he placed his other hand on her bloated stomach. The moment he began to rub gentle circles over her abdomen, Saylor’s stomach reacted violently, the churning intensifying as the pressure became too much to hold back.

Saylor gagged, her body lurching forward as her stomach convulsed. She barely had time to brace herself before a massive wave of vomit surged up, spilling out onto the grass in front of her. The force of the vomiting was so intense that it took her breath away, her body trembling with the effort as she continued to retch.

Julian held her steady, his hand never leaving her stomach as he continued to rub soothing circles over her abdomen. "Just let it out, Saylor," he murmured, his voice calm and reassuring. "You’re okay. I’m right here."

Saylor could barely respond, her entire focus on the violent upheaval of her stomach. She threw up again, another gush of sick pouring out of her, but the relief she had hoped for didn’t come. Her stomach remained painfully bloated, the pressure in her abdomen only increasing with each retch. She could feel the pain intensifying, her gut cramping painfully as her body tried to expel whatever was causing the upset.

She gasped for breath between bouts of vomiting, her throat burning from the acid and bile. Her stomach felt like it was being torn apart, the force of the retching leaving her weak and trembling. But Julian’s steady presence was a small comfort, his hand on her stomach helping to guide the sick out of her body, even though it didn’t seem to be letting up.

Another violent heave wracked her body, and Saylor threw up again, the sound harsh and desperate as it echoed in the quiet air. Her entire body was shaking, her legs barely able to support her as she continued to vomit, each wave bringing with it a fresh surge of pain.

Julian could feel her trembling, the tension in her body making him worry even more. But he stayed calm, his hand never leaving her stomach as he continued to rub soothing circles over her abdomen. "You’re doing great, Saylor," he said softly, his voice filled with concern. "Just let it out. You’ll feel better soon."

Saylor wanted to believe him, but the pain in her stomach was relentless. The pressure refused to ease, her abdomen still painfully bloated even as she vomited again and again. She could taste the bitter remnants of her lunch, the acidic taste making her gag even more.

She threw up another massive wave of sick, the force of it making her body convulse. She could feel the tears streaming down her face, the pain and exhaustion overwhelming her as her stomach continued to reject everything inside. But Julian’s steady hand on her stomach was the only thing keeping her grounded, his soothing presence helping to guide her through the worst of it.

After what felt like an eternity, the vomiting finally began to slow. Saylor was left panting and trembling, her stomach still bloated and sore, but the violent retching had finally subsided. She leaned heavily against Julian, her body too weak to support itself as she tried to catch her breath.

Julian didn’t move, his hand still resting on her stomach as he held her steady. "You did great, Saylor," he said softly, his voice filled with sympathy. "Just take your time. We don’t have to go anywhere until you’re ready."

Saylor nodded weakly, too exhausted to respond. Her stomach was still in turmoil, the bloating and pain making it hard to think straight. But she was grateful for Julian’s support, his calm presence helping to ease the fear and anxiety that had gripped her throughout the ordeal.

She took a deep, shaky breath, trying to steady herself. The nausea was still there, lingering at the edges of her consciousness, but the worst seemed to be over. For now, all she could do was lean on Julian and hope that her stomach would finally settle down.

[monaisme]

Sicktember: Day 27

#27- “This is non-negotiable”

“But Dr. Cho!” Peter jackknifed up to sit on the edge of the med bay bed, trying not to look like the manoeuvre hadn’t just hurt. “You said yourself that this was a clean break! And I’m ME! I am literally already healing while we’re sitting here arguing about it!”

Dr. Cho sighed and rolled her eyes as she swivelled her chair to face Mr. Stark. “I am a world renowned geneticist, one of the biggest names in cellular biology, and work on cutting edge medical technology that will one day change the world. Can you please, Tony, tell me why, with all of that knowledge and expertise, I am sitting here having to try to convince a teenage vigilante that it’s in his best interest to wear a cast on his freshly broken arm and NOT a removable brace because he wants to go to the water park with his friends tomorrow?”

Mr. Stark heaved a sigh of his own. “He was tested, Helen, I promise... said he was a genius and everything.” He shook his head in disappointment. “So either the tests lied, or—” Mr. Stark paused for affect, “the kid is a certified idiot.”

“Hey! That’s not nice!” Peter protested, “And you know the team has been planning for this for weeks! It’s the social event of the season!”

“I do know that,” Mr. Stark agreed through his chuckles. “I also know that an uncomplicated bone break takes you an average of two days to heal enough to safely switch over to a brace. Not,” the man checked his Starkwatch and looked Peter dead in the eye, “twelve hours. I’m sorry, kiddo.”

“Gah!” Peter shouted out in frustration then dropped back in defeat onto the bed. “ow.” He glared up at the ceiling. “This is so unfair.”

“Fair or not, Pete. It’s what it is.”

“But why?” Peter whined. “I’d be careful with it, I swear!”

Tony looked unconvinced while Dr. Cho mumbled under her breath, “I’ve seen how you’re careful with things, Peter...”

“Hey,” Peter lifted his head up from the bed and glared at the two adults. “Super hearing here! You don’t have to kick me when I’m down, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Doctor Cho could see that he really was.

She pushed his head back down onto the bed, and with a sigh of defeat, got up from her stool, her own flashback to missing science camp when she broke her own arm all those years ago suddenly at the forefront of her brain.

“I can’t believe I’m even considering doing this,” she mumbled to herself before clapping her hands together and committing to the new plan. “Okay, how’s about this?” Dr. Cho headed toward a supply cupboard and started rifling through it. “I personally hate using this because all of you think it gives you permission to not follow my rules HOWEVER,” She plucked out her supplies as she located them, then placed it on the supply table, and rolled it toward where Peter still lay, “If you promise me that you’ll be careful with this cast, AND the arm lying within it, I will give you a waterproof cast.” She lifted up the blue, futuristic sleeve of resin casting material. “But only this once, do you understand what I am saying?”

Peter’s eyes widened in disbelief, “So, you’re saying I can—”

Dr. Cho cut him off. “Nope, don’t get ahead of yourself. Listen to me Peter. This is an absolute non-negotiable. You will NOT be on any waterslides or in any swimming pools. You do not know moderation and so you will still have restrictions. You can be poolside—did you hear that? On the side, but you don’t have to worry about splashing and the like. You can also have VERY limited use of the toddler splash pad zone, to splash—with your feet—IF they allow that even. Do you hear me? You will still be careful because you are still healing. No stupid stuff.”

Peter had paid rapt attention, then turned his head to look at Mr. Stark once she was done talking. “Is this really happening? Did I hit my head and I’m hallucinating? Please tell me I’m not imagining this,” he pleaded with his mentor. “Dr. Cho is being nice?”

Mr. Stark snort-laughed. “Dr. Cho is always nice. We’re just pains in her ass and she reacts accordingly.”

“True.” Dr. Cho chuckled in response. “Now stop talking and let me focus on putting Peter back together before I change my mind about this whole thing.”

“Yes, ma’am. I will be stopping with the talking right now. Not a sound. I will not utter a peep—”

“Kid.”

“Yes, Mr. Stark?”

“Shut up.”

“Yes, Mr. Stark."  

/-/-/

“I can’t believe you broke your arm the night before our big Aca-Deca Waterparkapalooza!” Ned exclaimed, making no effort to hide his disappointment.

“I know!” Peter replied, “It’s not like I did it on purpose, and besides,” Peter checked to make sure the rest of the Aca-Dec team was out of earshot. “At least I can be in the water park proper to hang out without wrecking Dr. Cho’s handiwork. And Mr. Stark says he’s going to rent out the park for an afterhours ‘private function’ when I’m all healed up.” Peter announced, “It’ll be for all of his family and friends, which obviously means, like, the Avengers, and Aunt May, and us and whoever else I decide to invite AND we won’t have to worry about long lines to get on all the best rides!”

Ned’s jaw dropped. “Are you kidding? Please tell me that you’re not kidding!” Ned tried not to squeal—and failed.

“Ned!” Peter chastised. “Be cool!” he hissed loudly, trying to be both heard and not over the sound of all the water moving around them, “The more people who know, the more likely that I’ll have to invite—”

“Whatcha talkin’ about?!”

“Geez, Flash!” Ned clutched at his chest as he shucked Flash off his back and turned to confront him. “Way to give a guy a heart attack!”

“Ah, you’re fine, Ned.” Flash insisted, “So? Whose being invited where? Gimme the deets, peeps. Is it black tie? Should I rent a limo? Buy a lambo?”

Peter glared at Ned now that the cat was out of the bag. “It’s nothing, Flash. Mr. Stark is just going to give me a bit of a water park re-do because of the whole arm-in-cast thing, is all.”

“Sweet!” Flash replied then cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hey, nerds!” Flash hollered over to the rest of the team off in the distance, “Peter’s hosting another water park visit once the cast is off!” He lowered his hands and looked over to Peter. “Do we have a date yet?” He asked.

Peter shook his head, ‘no.’

Hands came up around his mouth again, “Details TBD! Wahoooooooooo! Let’s goooo!” Flash bellowed as he rushed toward the others, all talking excitedly about their next water park adventure.

“Well.” Peter huffed out in frustration. “That went well.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Pfft. Don’t worry about it. I’ll just never get over the fact that Flash doesn’t set off my spider senses anymore.”

Ned grinned at Peter’s statement. “I know! It’s like were trapped in an alternate reality.”

“Eh, it’s not so bad, I guess.” Peter smiled. “Besides—” A tingle across the back of Peter’s neck distracted him. “Hold on a min—”

A high pitched scream echoed across the water park, and then everyone heard it, “HELP ME! SOMEONE STOP HIM!” A woman’s voice called from somewhere behind them, “HE’S GOT MY PURSE!”

Without missing a beat, Peter pulled out his cell phone and handed it over to Ned. “Call Mr. Stark,” he ordered as he walked briskly toward the sound of the running feet. “You know how he gets when he doesn’t know what’s going on!”

“But Peter!” Ned looked worried, “Your cast! Dr. Cho!?”

Peter didn’t have time to worry. “It’s a purse snatcher in an enclosed park with security and cameras everywhere. What can I really do? Besides, it’s just a matter of slowing him down for someone else to catch him, Ned. We’re good, okay?”

Ned nodded, not convinced, but entered Peter’s PIN regardless.

And Peter started his trek, if he could even call it that. 

It took him only a minute to come upon the poor woman, surrounded by both security and friends, as she gestured wildly toward one specific pump station located inside of the park as the direction the perpetrator had fled toward.

It didn’t really make sense to Peter, but that was okay. If he wanted to make Peter’s job easier, he was more than welcome. Honestly, Peter was gonna find him either way. He just needed to block out the noise—

He closed his eyes and focussed.

Yikes.

The intensity of trying to hone in on one bad guy in a water park where the hot summer air was filled with the overwhelming chemical scent of chlorine, the cacophony of thousands upon thousands of gallons of water flowing through pipes and filters then hammering down plastic slides, and so many people... it suddenly seemed a little tricky.

But what a rush! He could do this, Peter thought. All he had to do was concentrate... find something that didn’t-

fit-

in-

Gotcha.

The swoosh of dark blue denim jeans and a rustle of a black hoodie would have blended in just about anywhere else in New York on any day of the year, even today, but in a water park where even the security guards were wearing tank tops, shorts, and water socks?

Peter approached cautiously, he thought, but the man must have sensed Peter’s gaze upon him as he turned to face him. They locked eyes, Peter and the purse snatcher, and then the chase was on.

Well for a minute, at least.

This guy had no clue what he was doing.

At least it seemed that way to Peter, which he guessed was a good thing. If the fight had gone on too long, they’d have drawn a crowd which would not be ideal, and it was already going to be tricky trying to insert himself back into the role of curious bystander. Peter just needed to find something to tie up the guy currently slumped and unconscious against the concrete wall. Then security would find him easily enough and— “Hey!”

His spider sense flared, giving Peter barely enough time to lift his casted arm up to block the pipe that was flying towards his head. (Apparently his purse snatcher friend was a big ol’ Fakey McFakerton!) Peter ignored the nauseating vibrations running up through his casted arm, instead using his good one to grab hold of the man’s wrist and twist it away then behind him as Peter forced the pipe out of his hand and his face down to the ground.

“That was not cool, man!” Peter grumped as he fought down the urge to puke. “So not cool.” He scanned the area once more for something to secure Purse Snatcher Guy’s wrists, but was having no luck. Peter was about to give up on finding anything when he looked down at himself and had an epiphany. “Ah, well.” He sighed. “It’s better than nothing,” he pulled at the drawstring from the swim trunks he’d worn in hopes of a few blissful minutes on the splash pad with his friends, and then a few twists and knots later, “Et voila!” Purse Snatcher Guy was bound well enough to keep him where he was until security showed up.

“And now, to get on with my day,” Peter announced to no one as he stood up and brushed his good hand against his t-shirt. For all that racket at the end there, he’d been sure he’d draw some observers, but there was no one. All it would take was a little sneaking for Peter to make his way back to his group... just like he’d planned.

Perfect!

Peter exhaled shakily then smiled as he approached Ned, who eyes bugged out of his head as he took in Peter’s form. “Dude! Are you okay? You look a little—”

“I’m fine, Ned.” He put his hand out to take his phone back. “Why?”

The sound of the Iron Man boosters must have been masked by the sounds of the park so there was no hiding it when Peter jumped at Mr. Stark answering the question in his stead. “Maybe it’s the Casper impression you’re trying to pull off OR maybe even because your cast is currently sporting a dent that I’m 100% certain was not there when you left the tower this morning?”

 “Huh?” Peter lifted his arm to see what he was talking about, and there it was. Peter gulped. “I can explain?”

Mr. Stark looked over Peter’s head to the cluster of Aca-Deca team members that were watching the exchange with bated breath. “Maybe we’ll discuss this back at the tower with Dr. Cho instead?”

Now that the excitement has passed, Peter could admit that maybe the pipe had done a little more than dent the cast, and the idea of the med bay and a moderate dose of painkillers was sounding pretty good. Peter stepped forward, exhaled shakily, and replied, “That sounds good.”

“Perfect!” Mr. Stark smiled softly at the kid before flashing his press-ready grin to Peter’s friends, making note of each of their faces. “I’m assuming I’ll be seeing you all in a few weeks when we try this again?”

Every one of them nodded.

“Fantastic! Well then, we’re going to be off.” Mr. Stark looked over to Ned, “Ted, thanks again for the call. We’ll see you at the tower on Tuesday, right?”

“Right,” Ned smiled big.

“Okay then,” the Iron Man mask flipped closed and Peter was swept up in its arms. “Let’s go see what kind of damage you caused, kid.”

Peter simply rested his head on the suit’s chest and chuckled. “At least I didn’t get my cast wet.”

[whumpsday]

Sep-Oct 2024 Whump Events

autumn is approaching! 🍂 here's a long one, since october is the big month for creation events, and september has a lot going on this year too! so much to choose from!

i've also made a post detailing upcoming g/t events here on my g/t blog. you can check that out if you wanna do something for that community!

September events starting this month:

🔤 Alphabet of Whump (@alphabetofwhump), prompts here, a 26-day whump event

🧸 Sicktember (@sicktember), prompts here, a 30-day sickfic event (this is its last year)

💀 Whumptember (@whumptember), prompts here, a 30-day whump event

🎶Seven Songs of Suffering (@snakebites-and-ink), prompts here, a 1-week whump event taking place the second week of September

🐉 HTTYD Whump Week (@httyd-whump-week), prompts here, a 1-week HTTYD fandom whump event

😱 Horrortember (@horrortember), prompts here, a 30-day horror event

Single-day September celebrations:

🎊 International Whump Day is September 12th. Celebrate however you like!

💬 Comment Day is September 15th, info here: @comment-day. Leave some nice comments on your favorite creations! (Not whump specific)

October events starting next month:

🎃 Whumptober (@whumptober), prompts here, a 31-day whump event. this is also the most-participated-in whump event of the year, often attracting people outside the whump community.

🌩️ Voltober (@voltober), prompts coming soon, a 31-day whump event

💧 Angstober (@angstober), prompts here, a 31-day angst event

🔮 31 Days of Horror (@31-daysofhorror), prompts potentially coming soon, a 31-day horror event

📼 Halloween Horror Bingo (@halloweenhorrorbingo), signups coming soon, a horror bingo-prompt event

🫀Goretober is a flexible gore event where people traditionally create their own prompt lists. If you don't want to make your own, there are many floating around in the Goretober tag already. Here's a few: one / two / three / four

📵 AI-less* Whumptober (@aiIesswhumptober), prompts here, a 31-day whump event

*Note to clear up any confusion brought on by the name: Neither Whumptober event includes or promotes the use of AI-generated works, the latter event is just more intense about it. Whumptober's AI policy is "We will not reblog or promote any works we know to be generative AI-created" and AILWT's AI policy is "No AI content of any kind is allowed".

[vonpharma]

Fandom: 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Karuma Mei | Franziska von Karma & Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth, Karuma Gou | Manfred von Karma & Karuma Mei | Franziska von Karma, Karuma Gou | Manfred von Karma & Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth Characters: Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth, Karuma Mei | Franziska von Karma, Karuma Gou | Manfred von Karma Additional Tags: Sickfic, Sicktember, Sicktember 2024, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Miles Edgeworth, (lightly described. this one's silly), Pre-Canon, Pre-Gyakuten Saiban 1 | Ace Attorney, Siblings, Sibling Bonding, Family Fluff, Franziska being a little demon, Medieval Medicine, but not really., Manfred von Karma NOT being an asshole, No Beta - Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth Chooses Death

Summary:

Miles knows that he is young, new, with much left to learn about the world and all its secrets. That said, he is pretty certain that the seven year old German child standing in his bedroom does not have a medical license.

Written for Sicktember 2024 Day 11: Medieval Treatment

Please read my closing author's notes on why I will no longer be supporting the Sicktember event, and withdrawing my fills from the collection in protest.

[READ ON AO3!]

[monaisme]

Sicktember: Day 7

#7- Borrowed Hoodie

“HEY!”

Natasha’s eye s flew open with a start.

“Look, lady, I don’t care if you want to take a nap or not, but the meter’s still runnin’ and there’s an angry lookin’ security guard headin’ our way, so what am I supposed to do here?” The cab driver’s glare reflected back at her from his rearview mirror as he demanded an answer.

“Shit,” Nat dragged a hand across her face and tried to wake up and clear her head. “Sorry, uh,” she reached into her pocket as she squinted at the total owed on the tiny screen, then fumbled through the bills now in her hand. “Here.” She tossed what she owed plus a ‘just good enough’ tip to keep her from being memorable into the front seat, and muttered a quick, “Thanks.” She grabbed her rucksack from the seat beside her and exited the car into the cold November evening.

“You took your sweet ol’ time there, Nat. I was wondering if I was going to have to drag you out myself,” Happy snarked as Nat shuffled past him and made her way through the automatic doors and into the near empty tower lobby.

“Hilarious, Happy,” Nat scowled at him as he turned to join her, then turned to sneeze into her elbow, “Just my luck, I can survive going head to head with seventeen HYDRA agents at the same time while trapped together in an underground bunker, but can’t fight off the cooties of a snot-ridden toddler with no sense of sneeze etiquette while on a layover in Germany.”

The normally stoic Happy grimaced at her description. “Kids are pretty gross. Is there anything that you need me to send out for? I can send one of the newbies on a pharmacy run for you if you want.”

“I’m fine.” Nat insisted. “So if there is nothing pressing to deal with security-wise, I’m going to go upstairs, finally crawl into my own bed, and sleep until this disgustingness has left me.”

“Well, I should warn you, then” Happy looked uncomfortable, “— if we’re gonna bring up kids and staying at the tower—that Peter Parker is spending the weekend with Tony, so you’ll probably be running into him at some point.”

Nat stopped dead in her tracks and dropped her head in defeat. “Spider-Man is having a sleepover with Tony? Seriously?”

“Yeah. His aunt is out of town for some bachelorette party in Atlantic City. Tony offered to keep him outta trouble till she got back.”

 “Well, then,” she contemplated the idea of having to deal with the boy who was Spider-Man and all the drama attached to that decision, then adjusted the strap digging painfully into her shoulder. Why did her room have to require a walk directly through the common room? “I think I’ll go find myself a hotel room somewhere then. Maybe—”

“Maybe nothing, Nat.” Happy pointed to the bag Nat was having an issue managing, “He’s sort of alright, as kids go, and he’ll probably spend most of the weekend with Tony in the lab anyways. Besides, even I can see that you’re sicker than you’re letting on. Now, c’mon,” he put his hand out, “If you won’t let me set you up with cold meds, at least gimme your bag and let’s get you upstairs. I’ll even introduce you to each other if he’s up there.”

Nat shook her head as she dropped the bag to the floor. If Happy was going to help, he could pick it up himself. “Fine.” Nat mock-glared, “You can carry my bag—BUT I don’t need you to hold my hand when all I’m doing is going home.”

Happy leaned over to grab the rucksack. “I never said I was holding your hand,” he replied, “I’m acting as a buffer.

Nat blinked in confusion as Happy made his way to the private elevator. A buffer? What was she getting herself into?

/-/-/

Nat and Happy were met by a pair of mismatch-socked feet dangled over the back of the couch that sat nearest the kitchen in the common room.

She cast a quick glance around the room. Yup. This was the common room, but... was she looking at little tacos and... avocados?

Happy sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hey, Pete. C’mon, head’s up, kid. You’ve got company.”

In a flash, the feet disappeared and the face of a very confused teenager with ear buds poking out of his ears popped up over the back of the couch in their stead. “Huh?”

The sickly assassin stared at boy in front of them then looked over at Happy with a confused look on her face. This felt warm and familiar to her for some reason, not that she could completely grasp it in her haze. She could only mouth the word, “buffer?” and hope that Happy would explain.

He simply stepped back and spoke softly, “wait for it...”

The boy’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped as his head swivelled back and forth, looking between the two newest additions to the common room. Peter looked to Happy, “Wait a minute—” His attention swung to Natasha, “You’re the Black—” he came back to Happy. “Happy!? How could you do this to me? Dude! You could have texted—warned me! Something so I could be prepared! I thought we had an understanding?!” Peter’s face paled and he cast a quick glance down at himself and came to a realization, “Dude!” Peter was up and pacing as he dragged his hands through his hair, “Black Widow has seen my socks!” He raised fists to the sky, “Why did I have to do the taco/avocado mix today of all days!” He dropped his face in his hands and sort of... deflated. “Kill me, please.”

 “Sorry, kid. I’m off duty.” Nat deadpanned.

Happy couldn’t contain the snort-laugh in response, and even Peter giggled at her dry humour. Hell, Nat would have joined them both if not for the memory and the cough that snuck up on her.

“Shit,” she gasped in as she tried to get the coughing under control while she started to wonder if the hotel might have been the better idea after all. There’d be no child-like laughter or witnesses to her weakness, after all.

But then, “Hang on,” Peter called out and bolted to the kitchen. “I’ll get you some water.”

And Nat couldn’t have that—dammit. She couldn’t! “No.” She choked out, “I’m fine,” but she wasn’t because it was all too much like Yelena  and those big eyes and silly socks and someone loving her enough to get her water when she was feeling sick and then it was too late...

“It’s okay, Ms. Black Widow, ma’am. It’s no bother. I like to help.” Peter was reaching for the cupboard door.

“NO!” She forced out with an anger that shocked all of them, and definitely stopped Peter in his tracks. “I’m going to my room and I’m going to sleep... but thank you,” she tacked on hastily when she saw the kicked puppy look on his face. She did not have the stamina to deal with this so she simply turned back to Happy, snatched her bag from his hands, and with a scowl, snarled under her breath, “Some buffer you are.”

Both Happy and Peter watched, confused, as the woman stormed through the common area and down the corridor to the private quarters, then turned to stare at each other.

A door slammed, loudly, causing them both to flinch.

After a beat, Peter cleared his throat. “Uh, I think I did something to upset her—”

Happy shrugged and shook his head, “Kid, I have no idea.”

/-/-/

It was hours later when Nat decided to risk heading into the common room so she could make some tea to soothe her irritated throat—granted, the risk was zero as she’d checked and double checked with FRIDAY that the place was empty...

... Unless FRIDAY was a filthy liar.

“Natashalie.”

Nat jumped and clutched a hand to her chest. “Geez!” It was a testament to how miserable Nat was feeling that she hadn’t picked up on the billionaire genius sitting in wait on a different section of the same couch his own protégé had been sat on hours before.

“Tony.” She crooked an eyebrow in response to his. “You’ll have to forgive me for being startled. I was under the impression that I would be alone.”

“Huh,” Tony seemed to be assessing her, and then spoke, “And I was under that impression that you could be trusted to not throw my spidey-intern into an existential crisis over potentially offending one of his Avenger idols by simply existing in the same space as her, but here we are.”

Huh.

“But I’m not here to make you feel bad about damaging the psyche of one of the most pure souls you’ll ever have the absolute privilege of meeting. I’m here to deliver a message—” Tony paused for effect. “Peter has asked me to convey his apology for making you uncomfortable when you were obviously feeling unwell. He wanted me to explain to you that he sometimes has issues with “boundaries,”” Yes, Tony air-quoted as he spoke, “which I personally think is one of his best qualities, and he has a ton of them, so you know. He’s like a love leech or something, but I digress.” He rolled his eyes then went on, “Anyhow, he’s going to do his best to stay out of your way going forward. That’s all.” And it was. Tony stopped talking, sat back, crossed his arms, and waited for Nat to reply.

Nat could only stand there, stock-still.  

“I don’t play messenger for just anyone, Nat,” Tony uncrossed his arms and stood up from the couch. “But I had to know—what the hell?!” He looked upset, but not angry. “Happy even told me that you’re feeling shitty, so I know this didn’t just come out of nowhere, but—” He stepped closer, took a deep breath, the upset morphing to concern. “Did something happen on the mission? Do you need to talk to someone? I mean, I know I’m only me, but the kid says I’m a good listener and I could try...”

Natasha eyes brimmed with tears, but a few deep breaths of her own had that under control. “I’m—” She almost said fine, but here Tony was, extending a hand even after all of the chaos of that damned civil war of theirs. She’d risked their friendship once, and knew that this was the make or break moment for the two of them. “I’m missing my sister... Peter reminded me of her for just a second and...” she rubbed at her cold nose and smiled sadly. “Apparently all it takes is a combination of cold symptoms and your baby spider to turn me into a nostalgic mess. I—” she scrambled to find the right words, then, “I didn’t manage it well earlier, and for that, I’m sorry.”

Now it was Tony’s turn to be speechless.

“Bet you didn’t see that coming, did you?”

Tony shook his head, then wrapped an arm around Nat’s arm and steered her back to the couch. “Nope. I did not.” Tony sat her down and then sat beside her before stretching out and putting his feet up on one of the many ottomans. “Every time I think you can’t surprise me, Nat, you go and pull something like this out of your ass. I’m impressed. Now,” he shifted so he was facing her better, “tell me about this sister of yours...”

/-/-/

“ow.”

Nat jackknifed up from her resting spot on the couch, her hand automatically reaching for the glock she normally carried at the small of her back—but she was home and safe with her weaponry stashed safely away in her bedroom. However—

“I am so sorry,” Peter hiss-whispered. “Pretend I’m not here. I’m a figment of your imagination.” He waved his hands in front of himself as he backed away from the kitchen island he’d stubbed his toe on and moved toward the elevator, “I am not the droid you are looking for.”

Nat rolled her eyes and smiled. “Relax, Spider-Man,” she replied. “You’re fine. In fact,” she patted the couch beside her, realizing she had something she needed to do. “Come here.”

Peter eyes her warily. “My spidey senses aren’t going off, but...” he took a step back, “what if your training is so good that you’ve even tricked them. I’m not sure what to do here, Ms. Black Widow, ma’am.”

Her smile softened, “Well, you can start by calling me Natasha... or Nat, even.”

Peter was unconvinced. “Alright, Ms. Black Widow, ma’am. I can do that.”

Nat just shook her head. “If you’d prefer to stay there, that’s fine, but I did want to say something to you, if that’s alright?”

Peter shrugged nervously, “Sure?”

“Perfect,” and now she, too, was feeling nervous. “I, uh, wanted to apologize to you for last night. While I wasn’t feeling my best, I should not have been so abrupt or rude to you. I know you were only trying to help.”

Peter stared blankly at her.

–Which was okay because Nat wasn’t done. “As well, Tony mentioned that you’d try to stay out of my way. You don’t have to do that. In fact—”

Peter had started twisting at the cuffs of his sweater.

“If you’re okay with it, I’ve seen some of the media coverage... I was thinking we could work on your technique when I’m not a contagious mess?”

Peter’s jaw dropped. “What did Tony say to you last night?”

Nat chuckled, then coughed, but only a little this time. “We were just sharing some stories... but what do you say? Private tutoring with me?”

“MJ is going to poop her pants.”

Nat snorted at that, then shivered a little. “I hope not.”

“Oh, my gosh!” Peter rushed forward. “You’re still sick and here I am keeping you awake when you up when you should be resting!”

She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, trying to warm herself up.

“AND your cold! Man, I hate that! Did Tony tell you about my stupid thermoregulation?” Peter had accepted her apology, and had shifted right back into caregiver mode, just like last night, “Ugh. It’s the worst! One second I’m freezing, the next—” Peter pulled the Midtown School of Science and Technology hoodie he was wearing off and thrust it toward Nat without another thought.

“Oh, I couldn’t—” she tried to decline, but her fate was sealed.

“No, seriously, you can borrow it. I know what it’s like to want to snuggle into something warm, and it’s super comfy and look!” Peter shook it out so Nat could see it clearly, “A very handy pocket!”