#vomitting

[shion-yu]

A Safe Place (part 3) [day 18]

A feverish Cliff is seen in the emergency room. For @monthofsick Day 18 “Unfamiliar surroundings”. 2,965 words, original work, TWs emeto, hospital content.

Part 1 | Part 2 - I swear this was supposed to be 2 parts but now it’s gonna be 4? Lol whoops.

Elliot supported Cliff into the busy ER. It was a Saturday, of course there were a lot of people there, Elliot thought regretfully. Silly to hope otherwise. Elliot eased Cliff into a seat as close to the reception desk as possible and then checked Cliff in, presenting Cliff’s ID and health insurance card. He was grateful Cliff’s wallet and phone were the two things his boyfriend had actually brought with him when he left his parents’ house, although a jacket and his inhaler would have been useful third and fourth choices.

“What’s this visit for?” The receptionist asked after scanning the cards and handing them back to Elliot.

“My boyfriend is having trouble breathing,” Elliot said, hoping this concerned her as much as it concerned him. “He has asthma, he’s wheezing, and he has a high fever. He didn’t know who I was earlier.”

The receptionist stood up a little to catch a glimpse of Cliff in his seat, who did look like he was struggling. “Okay, we’ll get him triaged as soon as possible,” the receptionist said. Elliot chose to believe her for his own sanity’s sake. “In the meantime, have him wear a mask.”

Cliff sagged against Elliot when Elliot sat next to him. He was in no shape to do paperwork, so Elliot tried to fill it out as much as he could. Fifteen minutes passed. Cliff was whimpering in pain and his wheeze had grown louder. “Just a few more minutes, Cliffy,” Elliot said, hoping it wasn’t a lie. Thirty minutes passed. Cliff was now insisting he was fine after all, and that they ought to go home. But that was when he was lucid, which would last only a minute before he’d follow up by saying something that made very little sense and reminded Elliot exactly why they couldn’t leave. Finally, about forty minutes after they’d checked in, a nurse called Cliff’s name and brought them to a small room between the waiting room and the actual ER. Elliot repeated the story he’d given the receptionist although more aggressively this time as the nurse nodded and took Cliff’s vitals.

Elliot never wanted Cliff to be so sick. However, his vitals did prompt some action and for that Elliot was grateful. Cliff’s fever was 103.5 now, his oxygen running lower than expected at 92%, and his heart rate and blood pressure were both high. The nurse led them to a stretcher in a curtained off bay and told Cliff to change into a gown. Elliot had to help Cliff climb up, his boyfriend’s coordination poor. His hands were shaking too hard to button his own gown up, so Elliot did it for him.

“Don’t feel good,” Cliff mumbled, swaying even as he sat up on the stretcher.

“I know, just lie back,” Elliot said. “They’re gonna help you.”

Thankfully, this time they only waited about ten minutes before a new nurse came in with a small bucket full of supplies. She introduced herself as Anna and said she was going to insert an IV, take some blood, and hook Cliff up to oxygen and fluids. She was also going to swab Cliff for flu and strep, but Elliot explained the urgent care had already done that. “Well, this tests for some other stuff too, it’s a full respiratory panel. I’d recommend we just do it anyways.” Elliot agreed on Cliff’s behalf; Cliff seemed to be communicating only in nods at this point.

Nurse Anna looped some oxygen tubing over Cliff’s ears first and plugged it into the wall. She also attached a blood pressure cuff and oxygen probe that she said would stay on for now for monitoring. Elliot felt like all the devices only made Cliff look sicker. Anna swabbed Cliff’s nose, which made him cough harshly to the point of gagging, and then got ready to insert an IV.

Cliff looked to Elliot in panic, swallowing rapidly. ‘Faint,’ he mouthed to Elliot helplessly. “Um, I think he passes out when there’s needles,” Elliot spoke up for him. Cliff nodded gratefully.

“Well you’re in the right place if you do,” Nurse Anna said. She lowered the head of the stretcher and told Elliot to hold Cliff’s hand as she looked for a vein in his other arm. “I’ll go super quick,” she reassured them, and she was right. It was quick. But Cliff turned sheet white and got really sweaty and by the time she’d collected enough tubes of blood, flushed and secured the hub and hooked him up to a bag of fluids, Cliff was barely conscious. “Don’t worry, it happens,” she said. She put a pillow under Cliff’s legs and told him to breathe deeply through his nose. Elliot found her calm demeanor the only thing keeping him calm, because it seemed terrifying even if it was normal. Cliff followed her directions and eventually gained some color back. Anna said his blood pressure was coming back up and that he should just lie there with his feet up for a few more minutes, then left the room.

“I’m sorry,” Cliff apologized miserably for the tenth time since they’d come back here.

“Baby, please, stop apologizing,” Elliot told him. “You’re here because you have to be and you’re not doing anything bad or wrong. Just rest.”

Cliff’s eyes filled with tears and he covered them with his forearm. “I suck,” he whimpered, Elliot’s words clearly not having reached him as intended. Elliot sighed and put one hand on Cliff’s head to stroke his sweaty hair. It wasn’t worth fighting Cliff on this right now. Elliot just had to be there for him.

Cliff fell asleep to Elliot’s relief. Elliot texted his mom what was going on and hoped this wasn’t as bad as it felt. Cliff snored quietly until a woman came with a huge portable x-ray machine. “Sorry to wake you up,” she said, “Cliff? I’m here to get your x-ray. I’ll go fast.”

Cliff opened his eyes and stared blankly at her. Elliot wasn’t sure if Cliff knew what was going on at this point so he stroked Cliff’s arms and explained, “Cliff? She’s gonna take the pictures of your lungs now.” He helped the x-ray tech manipulate Cliff’s torso so that he was lying on a hard board. Elliot stood in the doorway while they did the films.

“Alright, take a nice deep breath for me and hold it,” the x-ray tech said. “I know, good job, got it. You can cough.” And cough Cliff did, that same desperate wet cough that had made Elliot’s mind up to bring him here. He managed to catch his breath, but it wasn’t over. “One more,” the tech said, moving the boards and machine around to point at Cliff’s side now. “Again. Deep breath. One, two, and good. Let it out.”

This time Cliff didn’t seem able to stop coughing. He coughed until each gasp sounded like a Herculean struggle and Elliot wasn’t sure that any of that air he was gulping in was actually reaching his lungs. The machine that was measuring Cliff’s oxygen levels started to beep and the tech told Elliot she was going to find the nurse. Elliot held on to Cliff and tried to soothe him, but it didn’t seem to work. Cliff just kept coughing until suddenly his eyes flew open and he spewed a sharp wave of vomit from his mouth all the way to the end of the stretcher. Elliot winced, pulling back and trying not to look at the mess. Cliff spluttered and coughed between additional harsh gags that produced little besides a stream of thick brown saliva that pooled in his lap. Elliot prayed the nurse would come in soon and hesitantly rubbed Cliff’s back. He didn’t know what to do and Cliff seemed frozen, unable to lift his head or close his mouth.

Thankfully the nurse showed up then and said, “Oh no!” Oh no was right, Elliot thought anxiously. “Did we just get coughing too hard?” She glanced at Cliff's oxygen levels and turned a small green dial on the wall, which made a quiet hissing noise for a second as the flow of oxygen increased. “Don’t worry hun, we’re going to get you cleaned up.” She found a change of sheets in one of the cupboards behind the stretcher and changed the blankets and top sheet in record time. She checked Cliff’s fluids which were nearly done and then charted standing in the room for a few minutes on her rolling computer.

Cliff was silent, hunched over holding a pink plastic basin in his lap in case of another incident, and Elliot couldn’t tell if he was just out of it or humiliated. The room still smelled of putrid stomach acid; Elliot breathed through his mouth. His phone dinged in his pocket and he saw an alarmed text from his mother. He didn’t have time to reply though, as the doctor walked in at that moment.

“Doctor Jim,” Anna greeted him politely, scooting her computer farther away from the bedside. “He just threw up coughing and I turned up his oxygen.”

“I’m not surprised,” Dr. Jim said. He looked to be in about his forties, was mostly bald and had tiny round glasses that looked too small for his face. “Cliff? I’m Jim, I’m a physician here. How are you doing today?”

Elliot thought that was a stupid question. Cliff looked at Dr. Jim with hazy eyes and mumbled, “Sick.”

“Well, that makes sense. You’ve got yourself a nasty case of double pneumonia,” Dr. Jim said. Elliot’s heart sank. “Has this ever happened to you before?”

Cliff shook his head no. He moved his hand to the edge of the bed that Elliot understood as a silent signal to hold it, which he did. “Well, I think it’s best if we admit you for observation overnight with the vitals you have. I’m going to order two IV antibiotics and some steroids, try and get that swelling down in your lungs and hopefully you’ll be feeling better in no time. How’s that sound?”

Cliff didn’t answer. “That sounds fine,” Elliot said, squeezing Cliff’s hand. “Can I stay with him?”

“Once we move him to the floor, visiting hours are eight to eight,” Dr. Jim said. “But you can stay with him for as long as he’s in the ER.” He turned to Anna and gave a few other orders for Zofran, Tylenol, albuterol and budesonide treatments. It all seemed so casual to them, but Elliot was still disturbed by how sick Cliff looked and seemed to him.

Dr. Jim physically examined Cliff next. Cliff shuddered and Dr. Jim apologized for his cold hands, but Elliot knew that the temperature hadn’t had anything to do with it. He hummed a lot, wrote down some notes, and then left with a “Hope you feel better soon.” Elliot wondered if he told all his patients that, or just the ones who could actually get better soon. Nurse Anna also excused herself to get the ordered medications, leaving Elliot alone with Cliff once again.

“So… pneumonia. That sounds pretty bad,” Elliot said. “Why didn’t you tell me you felt so sick?”

“You were at work. I didn’t want to bother you,” Cliff said in a tiny voice. “And then I tried to text you but none of the letters in my phone made sense.”

Elliot felt his chest clench painfully hearing that. “Cliff, you wouldn’t have bothered me.”

“But I’m bothering you now,” Cliff whimpered.

Elliot frowned. “I didn’t say that.” Silence from Cliff. Elliot sighed and grasped Cliff’s hand in his own. “Cliff, Cliffy, can you look at me?” It took a second, but fever-bright, hazel eyes eventually focused on Elliot. “You’re my boyfriend. I want you to be okay. Can you at least try to trust me?”

“I do trust you,” Cliff whispered, voice hurt.

“Then let me care about you.”

Cliff fell quiet again and Elliot sat back but kept Cliff’s hand in his. Cliff had his eyes closed, but it didn’t do much to hide the tears that escaped from the corners of them. Elliot didn’t say anything, just brushed them off of Cliff’s cheeks with his sleeve. Once Cliff was asleep, Elliot finally allowed his own silent tears to fall.

Eventually a CNA came to bring Cliff down to the short-stay unit. She rolled Cliff’s stretcher down the hall and into an elevator. Cliff looked nervous and kept glancing at Elliot, making sure he was still right next to him. Elliot always was. They got to a small room that had a real hospital bed in it and the CNA and Elliot both helped Cliff take two steps from the stretcher onto the bed. It was painful for Elliot to see how difficult even this brief transfer was for Cliff, and Cliff started another one of his long coughing spasms afterwards. Elliot rubbed Cliff’s arm, unsure what else he could possibly do to help. “Water,” Cliff croaked hoarsely between deep, rattling coughs.

“Sure. Um…” Elliot looked around him but this room was barely more than an ER bay. It didn���t even have windows. “Let me go check,” he said, and went to go look for the nurse’s station. There were two tired and rather bored looking, middle aged women sitting at computers at the end of the hall. “Excuse me? My boyfriend just got here and he could use some water…”

“I’m almost there,” one of the nurses said, which Elliot thought was a weird thing to say when she very much wasn’t almost there. Regardless, they didn’t seem to like him hovering very much so Elliot went back to Cliff’s room. There was nowhere for him to sit, so he stood at the bedside. Cliff had managed to stop coughing at least.

The nurse, despite her indifferent demeanor, did show up with a little bin that contained hospital socks, meds and a large plastic jug of water. “Clifford Barrows, hmm? I’m Carey. And you are…?” She raised an eyebrow at Elliot.

Suddenly feeling extra protective, Elliot quickly said, “His boyfriend.”

“Alright. Mr. Barrows, are you okay to have Elliot in here?”

Cliff nodded a yes. Elliot thought it was so weird to hear Cliff called by his last name. They seemed too young for that.

“Well, your boyfriend will have to leave after I finish this admission paperwork as visiting hours are over soon, but remind me to get you a chair for tomorrow,” Carey said. She started a myriad of questions, which included Cliff’s emergency contact.

“Make it Elliot,” Cliff said quickly, looking at him. “Um, will my dad know I’m here?”

“You’re eighteen, right? Not unless you tell him,” Carey said. “But I see your dad is the primary insurance holder so he may see the invoice after you’re discharged. It shouldn’t show any details though.”

Cliff grimaced but nodded. At least there would be no confrontation in the actual hospital, Elliot thought to himself. Carey kept asking questions, which ranged from did Cliff smoke to could he walk up a flight of stairs to did he have any plans to hurt himself right now. They seemed a little ridiculous to Elliot, but Cliff was able to answer all of them with simple yes’s and no’s pretty quickly since he was for the most part entirely healthy.

“You’re easy,” Carey said, winking at Cliff. “Boyfriend? Visiting hours are over now honey, so you say your goodbyes and you can come back at 8am tomorrow morning.” Elliot thought she was kind of like those old ladies at diners who yelled at you for your order but called you honey so you couldn’t feel totally attacked.

He nodded and gave Cliff a quick hug. He thought about kissing him, but Cliff didn’t like to be kissed in front of other people so he just squeezed Cliff’s hand instead. “I’ll be back in the morning,” he promised. “Get some rest and tell them if you don’t feel good, okay?”

“Okay,” Cliff said. He looked scared, so Elliot hugged him again and kissed the top of his head this time.

“I love you,” Elliot said. “I know you can be strong for me. You’ve got your phone right here.”

Elliot didn’t look back as he left, because he could feel Cliff’s kicked puppy expression trailing him and knew if he did, it would be ten times harder to leave. He walked to the parking lot without thinking, got in his car, and drove home without Cliff beside him. He made it to the park a block away from his parents’ house before he pulled over and cried for a solid ten minutes.

Cliff was going to be okay, Elliot told himself. Cliff was stronger than he seemed, and realistically Elliot couldn’t be there for him every second of the way. But he’d promised Cliff they weren’t going to the hospital, and then he promised Cliff that he’d be right there next to him the whole time. He’d broken both of these promises and now Cliff was sleeping in a hospital bed, in a tiny room with no windows and only a crotchety old lady to keep an eye on him. Elliot felt just terrible and wondered if he’d made the wrong choice dragging Cliff to the ER. All he wanted was for Cliff to be okay, though, and he really hadn’t seemed okay today.

Elliot wiped his tears away and told himself he had to be strong. This seemed so intense and adult, but Elliot couldn’t let it overwhelm him. He tried to remember the coping mechanisms his therapist had taught him back in high school. Deep breaths. One second at a time. He could do it, and so could Cliff. Elliot turned on the car and returned home by himself.

[Part 4]

[adrift-in-thyme]

@thepinklink Plink you lovely human I come bearing Legend whump for you <33

I'm so glad you met and I've absolutely loved chatting with you these last few days! I look forward to many more conversations <3

Now, this fic kinda got out of hand (*stares at word count* I...did not expect it to get that long I promise), so I'm gonna hide it beneath the cut. But first, warnings!

CW for poisoning, vomiting, blood and injury, harm to animals, and some trafficking vibes (it's not trafficking specifically and isn't related to such harm to humans. But still, be careful)

Oh yeah and you can also read this on ao3

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Legend moves on feather-light feet. His cape swishes gently around him, its silken folds embracing his slight form. Not for the first time he thinks how lucky he is to have it. To possess the ability to become invisible is an invaluable skill. Especially, in situations like this one.

“Come on, rancher. I know you’re here.”

He steps around another row of empty crates, their metal bars dinged and scratched from previous occupants. He can feel their presence still lingering, calling out in panicked voices few humans can understand.

“Help us!” They cry and every word makes his ears prick up, listening even as he tries not to. “Set us free!”

Roughly, Legend swipes at his eyes. 

Find Twilight and get out of this cursed place — those are his only objectives. And the sooner he completes it, the better.

He tugs his cape closer about his throat and tightens his grip on his sword. Determinedly, he moves forward.

It seems like forever before the telltale sound of snuffling reaches his ears. Legend perks up, ears pricking at the noise. He can hardly pick out the rancher’s distinctive wolf scent through the stench of dozens of past captives. Still, this place has been empty up until now. Empty and horrid and dark.

So too have been the countless cages scattered about the wide space. But the one Legend can see now tucked awkwardly into a tight corner…that one is occupied.

A large, gray wolf is curled within it, ears drooping in defeat and blood on his paws. His breaths come fast, an edge of panic and pain hitching the end of every one.

Legend’s heart clenches despite himself. 

I’m coming, Twi. Just hold on.

Furtively, he glances around. No figures move in the shadows, no one steps into the dim light. But the goddesses only know how long he has before someone arrives. 

Legend takes a deep breath and rushes forward.

Twilight’s ears prick up at the sound of pattering feet. He raises his head, tired eyes searching for the disturbance. Fear quickly turns them razor-sharp. A growl rumbles in his throat, low and hoarse, but threatening all the same.

Quickly, Legend lowers his hood. He’s sure that a floating head isn’t the most reassuring thing in the world, but still, it’s better than nothing. And he is unwilling to remove his entire cape just yet. With luck, he can conceal Twilight beneath it as well. 

“Hey, hey quiet,” he hisses, holding up invisible hands. “You’re gonna alert the creeps.”

Twilight pauses in the act of rising to his feet, head cocked like one of the stable dogs in Wild’s Hyrule. Legend’s lips lift slightly. He reaches for the lock with one hand, retrieves a cluster of keys from his pouch with the other. 

He found them earlier, hanging on the wall from a hook. A paltry attempt at looking professional, in his opinion. Real villains conceal the keys in their cloaks or attach them to their souls with the darkest of magics, unreachable by any who lack the strength to defeat them.

He’s fortunate, though. Fortunate, that they weren’t smart enough to do either. 

“I’m gonna get you out of here,” he murmurs. 

Ring-adorned fingers slide over the collection of keys, magic rifling silently through them, searching for the one that fits the cage. It weaves with elegant grace between them, selects the right one, confidently raises it like a pointing finger. Legend grasps it and fits it into the lock.

The padlock plummets into his waiting palm.

“Alright, let’s get out of this place,” he breathes. And burn it down on the way out. “Can you walk?”

Twilight dips his head. Slowly, he limps out of the cage. A cold nose bumps against Legend’s cheek, leaving a smear of wetness there. The veteran swipes grumpily at it.

“Yeah, yeah you’re welcome. Now, let’s get out of here before somebody discovers us.”

Pulling his hood back over his head, he nudges the rancher into the safety of his cloak. Matted fur scrapes against his legs as they begin to walk. No doubt Twilight is leaving a trail of bloodied paw prints behind. But there’s nothing much Legend can do about that. Except, of course, pick up the pace.

At the rate they’re going, it’ll take them thirty minutes just to reach the double doors. By that time someone will have entered the room, noticed the marks, and begun a search. And though the cape is wonderful for concealing physical forms, it does little in the way of softening sounds.

Twilight stumbles, a low whine escaping before he can stop it. Something damp and clammy slides down Legend’s legs. The veteran reaches down and sets a hand on the rancher’s head.

“Hang on,” he whispers, and the wolf nudges him again in response.

Legend inhales deeply and blows it out. His eyes flit back and forth, searching for hidden adversaries. Every limping, laborious step brings them closer to their escape. Yet, it seems so far…

If he could lift the wolf, that would be helpful. One kick of his pegasus boots and they’d speed right on out of here. But Twilight isn’t light and Legend is already expending quite a lot of magic to keep them both hidden. 

Slow and steady is their only choice, then, he thinks, with a huffed sigh. Because it can just never be easy. 

If he’s lucky, though, it will be enough. 

But he is hardly the luckiest guy on earth. 

They have made little in the way of progress when a door slides open behind them. It glides softly on its hinges, showcasing a rather large grouping of shadows. They stretch along the floor in front of the two heroes. 

Legend stares down at them, heart in his throat. He dares not turn around to see who they belong to. Instead, he eases down into the shelter of a small enclosure of crates. 

Twilight lowers himself with a haggard sigh. But that terror still remains poignant in the piercing blues of his irises. And when he turns to peek at the doorway, his breathing speeds up.

What were those sadists planning to do to him? Legend wonders, fingers coming to rest in thick fur. He hopes it’s a reassuring gesture. What have they already done? 

“You said you had another test subject for me.” It’s a woman’s voice, sharp and calloused, like a hand that has held a weapon too many times. “Where is it?” 

“Right this way ma’am.” 

Large figures fumble to allow her a way forward. Legend tenses as the shadows grow darker, shorter. His fingers tighten, drawing a small comfort from the feel of his sword hilt in their grasp. 

The group approaches, passes by without even turning in his direction. He doesn’t allow himself a sigh of relief. They still haven’t reached the cage.

When they do, he knows it.

“He’s right — wait a minute! Where’d he go?”

Panic pitches gravelly voices higher.

“He was right here! I swear!”

“What you swore,” the woman hisses, “was that there would be a wolf waiting for me. A wolf with the power to turn into a man. 

“You swore to me that your price would be worth paying. Evidently, I trusted the wrong people.”

The room suddenly tenses, air thickening and growing sharp. Like a dagger readying to be thrown. 

Legend’s breath catches in his throat. Dark magic. He’s suffocating on it.

Somewhere, something makes a sickening squelch. A scream sends the pressure spiraling.

“No, n-no need for further violence! I can fix this, I swear!” 

The shadows darken once more. A man backs towards their spot, hands raised. 

“He’s here,” she says with icy decisiveness. “I can feel him.” 

The air goes taut again. She is closer than ever now, eagle’s eyes scanning for her prey. Twilight is rigid. Legend’s fingernails dig into his palm. 

“Them. I can feel them. There’s two of them now. Find them both, or suffer the same fate as your companion.”

Burly men the size of his uncle trip over themselves, sputtering promises and reassurances. They fan out, weapons in their hands. 

But the woman only grows closer. Legend can smell her now — rotting flesh and chu jelly and bokoblin innards, all attempting to hide beneath a layer of costly perfumes.

Legend presses a hand to his nose, fighting not to retch. Beside him, Twilight shudders.

“You’re near,” she purrs. Hands marred by too many magical experiments reach out, taloned nails beckoning. “I can smell your fear. Come out and I won’t hurt you.” 

Nearby, a stack of cages topple with a deafening crash. Legend flinches despite himself. Loud noises have always affected him strongly. Every one feels like an assault to his ears. But in this moment, with the tension and the terror, with a hundred different plans whirring in his mind, it feels like an explosion in his skull.

“Yes. I feel your despair as well.” 

She is even nearer now. Legend can see her hideous form, monstrous and gnarled and emanating dark power. Like a witch from the illustrated story books Uncle read him as a boy.

“Come out, little heroes. Come out.”

Legend inhales a shallow breath. He’s going to have to, at some point. She isn’t going to let up — that much is certain. 

But that doesn’t mean he can’t still try to evade her.

Closing his eyes, he sections off some of his magic. There is a separate path from the main one, one more violent, more…explosive. A simple nudge and eagerly, his magic streaks down it.

Legend nudges Twilight in the side. 

Get ready.

One second passes, then two more. Off to their left, crates and cages and men go flying in an eruption of crackling detonations. 

Legend works quickly, pouring more magic in, causing more explosions. They heat the air, send objects and people hurtling. Screams of pain and shouts of fear ring out.

The woman whirls for just a moment. And that’s enough. It has to be.

The veteran leaps to his feet. They can’t run — what Twilight achieves is more of a hobbling jog than anything else — but maybe, just maybe if they keep up this panicked pace they’ll have a chance…

Something streaks through the air, sharp and vicious, searching. It’s pure magic at first, a dark power he tries to evade, to shield them against. But his efforts only draw it to him further. It speeds up, ravenous and eager, zipping towards him. And the next thing he knows, a dagger is embedded in his bicep. 

Legend chokes on a sudden mouthful of blood. He tries to remain quiet, he tries. But the cry breaks free anyway, agonized and cut off, screamed through gritted teeth. 

Wrong, his body and mind screech as something horrible and icy slides off of the blade and into his veins. Wrong, dangerous, getitoutgetitoutgetitout

Trembling fingers reach for the hilt. But before he can drag it out another wave of magic hits. He screams, grip on his own spell loosening. He clambers to grasp it again, slips, falls. The cloak retreats into his pouch.

“There you are,” the woman hisses.

The ground bucks beneath his feet.

The desperate spark of hope that had blossomed in Legend’s chest shatters completely. And he falls along with it, colliding with the ground with skull-shattering force. 

Stars explode in his vision, bursting in eruptions of blinding, electric lights. Somewhere, past the roar filling his ears and head, past the thundering pound of his heart, Legend hears Twilight’s growl.

Nails clatter over the ground. Seconds later, a heavy object slams into the floor beside him, whimpers, and goes terribly limp.

Panic splits through the agony and confusion. Legend curls his hands into fists, blinking furiously in an attempt to see straight again.

Come on. Get up. Fight before they kill you both.

He grasps the dagger, yanks it out. His limbs scream as they move. Blood splatters onto the floor, creating large puddles of greenish-maroon. He tastes the tang of iron, the bite of bile, and…something else. It seems to emanate from him, a strange, vile thing. Tasteless, yet disgusting; icy, yet flaming hot. 

Legend shudders, suddenly nauseated. But he hefts his sword more firmly in his grip and turns to face the woman. 

“You are a strong one, boy,” she says, face splitting in a leering grin. “That dosage should have killed someone your size, instantly. Yet, here you are.” 

“What can I say?” The words are slurred. Legend stumbles as he steps forward, struggling to see past the blur the room is quickly becoming. “I’m full of surprises.”

He thinks the woman’s grin grows larger. But maybe that is only one of the illusions his eyes are forcing upon him. Either way, he hears her words quite clearly.

“I’m certain of it. Not to worry, though. You’ll be dead soon enough.” She nods to the men that have gathered around her. “Go. Get what is rightfully mine.”

They start forward. Legend grits his teeth and steps back toward where Twilight lies, still twitching from the effects of the spell that had hit him. 

“Just try and touch him,” Legend growls. “Know that spell that blew your friends sky high? There’s more where that came from.”

For a split second, there is the slightest glimmer of fear in their eyes. But then the ground dives down, down, down beneath his feet. Pain streaks through his head, as though someone has driven a stake through his skull.

Legend pitches forward and vomits.

Laughter assaults his ears as he fights to compose himself. Darkness tinges the edges of his vision. Oblivion beckons him. 

Let go, it whispers. It doesn’t hurt here. 

He bats it away, steels himself, straightens. Blood and bile dribble down his chin, and he doesn’t bother to wipe them away.

“Give up,” one man orders between barking chuckles. “You’re already dead.”

Legend lists to the side and grins, all sharp, blood-tinged teeth. 

“Not yet, I’m n-not.”

Magic streaks through constricted veins, scraping as it goes. With an agonized scream, he sends it forward. The room lights up with streaks of greenish light. 

He crumples in the wake of it, choking on a mouthful of blood, dragging thin gasps of air through failing lungs. His stomach heaves again, desperate to rid itself of the poison his heart pumps through him. But there is nothing for it to expel. 

Agony holds him in an iron-fisted grip, turning his limbs stiff and immovable, making his head spin and pound. The darkness claims more of his sight. Still, he battles it. 

He has to stay awake — for Twilight’s sake, for his own. He’s made it this far. He’ll be damned if he gives up now.

Cackles reach his ears. Slowly, he lifts his head.

The fallen bodies of his enemies lie strewn about, still smoldering. The sight brings bile back into his throat. He hates killing, no matter what the deceased people might have done. And yet, there had been no other choice. 

The woman, however, seems to have come out relatively unscathed. 

Shielding spell, Legend’s mind so helpfully supplies. A harsh curse bubbles out from between bloodied lips. 

“You truly are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

A bolt of electric power collides with his chest. Legend goes flying, hits a stack of crates, and collapses. His breath is merely a wheeze now, though he can’t tell if that’s from the poison or the broken bone currently skewering his lung. 

Both, probably. 

The woman advances. Legend tries to sit up and fails. His entire body is on fire now. Shudders wrack him. Everything smells of blood and vomit and poison. The room spins like a leever; his surroundings blur like smudged charcoal.

He coughs and more greenish-red hits the floor.

“I would keep you, you know. To examine and experiment on. But it seems the poison has already done irreversible damage.” 

A flick of a finger and Legend is propelled upwards. Seconds later, he hits the floor again with an earth-shattering crack. 

The pain of broken bones joins all else. He thinks he screams. He can’t be certain. 

He knows that he can’t breathe anymore. All his lungs are capable of are paltry, wheezing attempts. He’s suffocating, drowning in blood and poison. He’s back on the sea, battling against waves taller than Hyrule Castle, fear growing stronger with each one that floods the deck of his little boat.

“I see no reason to spend precious power on saving your life. Perhaps, you can save yourself. I doubt it though. After the spells you cast, you likely don’t have enough magic left within you to heal a nicked finger.”

She is right upon him now, presence smothering. Legend blinks, slowly. Everything feels very, very far away. If he releases his grip now, will he plummet? Or will everything simply fade away, leaving him to float on waves of grayish nothingness? Empty. Alone. 

Maybe it will feel better then, being unattached, emotionless. Maybe…maybe it won’t hurt so very much…

Fire screams in his veins, burning muscle and flesh and bone, devouring his insides. Blood fills his throat. His breath rattles in his veins. A tear slides down Legend’s cheek. Its icy touch is almost soothing. 

His grip on something resembling consciousness slips. He tries to inhale again. His lungs do not expand to fill his foggy request. 

The last thing he sees before his eyes flutter closed is a wolf leaping forward and closing its jaw around the woman’s neck.

She shrieks, blood spurts, and it all goes dark.

….

“...end! Legend!”

Protesting eyes flutter open, beckoned by a voice he knows. Sharp, gray-blue eyes gaze down at him from a pale face streaked with crimson. 

“Ra-ranch–”

Legend drags in a wheezing breath and chokes on the word. Twilight holds him closer, nudging his sweat-soaked bangs aside.

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m here.”

A calloused hand encases his frigid one. Legend tries to squeeze it. But his muscles won’t cooperate. Everything still burns. He yearns for the darkness to cover him again. He yearns to not feel.

Are you okay? Is what he means to say.

“Hurts,” is all that comes out.

Twilight’s expression shatters. There are tear streaks on his cheeks, the veteran realizes, dimly. They shouldn’t be there.

“I know, buddy.” The world shifts and Legend squeezes his eyes shut against it. Something cold and smooth presses to his lips. “Drink this. It’s all I’ve got but it’s enough to keep you alive.”

Bittersweet silk slides down his throat. Obediently, Legend swallows it. It soothes all the way down, knitting bones and flesh back together, nudging the wrongness out of his veins. 

Not completely. Not even close. But it’s something, and Legend is grateful for it.

“Okay?” Twilight asks, and the veteran offers a jerky nod. “Alright, then I’m gonna get you out of here.”

Again, his surroundings tip. Legend swallows against the urge to vomit.

“No,” he croaks in a barely audible whisper, “…I-I was ‘posed to get y-you outta here.”

The world begins to move like the endlessly churning walkways he had endured in the dungeons of Koholint. His head bumps against something wonderfully soft, and he leans into it. A heartbeat drums softly in his ears.

“‘M sorry.” 

It is merely a sigh. Twilight hears it anyway.

“It’s okay, vet,” he assures him, as thick darkness envelopes him again. “You did great. You saved me.

“Now, let me save you.”

Somewhere in the fuzz of oncoming unconsciousness and potion and pain, Legend has the urge to laugh.

Save him? He’s the veteran of hero business. He shouldn’t need saving.

But the heart keeps beating like a distant drum; and the softness drags him into it, tickling his nostrils and caressing his face; and the arms that hold him remain steady even as the world churns like waves on the sea. And before long Legend is gone, adrift once more in an abyss of blessed oblivion.

[spoiledmilks]

Looking at your William and Mrs Afton together will always remind me that I will be single forever, their love are just too powerful and adorable

Its okay me too!

[nnobara]

genga by runchan

[croissantlover24]

They whimper, snapping of bones can be heard and they scream

-🎉

Copper throws up oil in the background. Nexus is too busy to notice.

[disagigglebilities]

You mentioned gastroparesis in a recent post.

Any tips for someone suspecting it?

(maybe gross: tw vomit)

I literally vomited up food somewhat in tact the other morning that I ate over twelve hours beforehand, and I know that's not normal. Smaller meals help greatly, and the PPI I was on made it worse. Off that one now. Sulfasalazine has also made it worse. Have to keep that one.

I've also noticed high water content meals (like soup) digest much easier.

Is there a point at which you should definitely go to the doctor about this issue? What is it?

Thank you for your time!

If you're vomiting more than once a month, it's recommended to see a doctor. Tho honestly I'd recommend going if you see a pattern too. It's always better to be safe then sorry.

I definitely understand vomiting up food hours after I ate it. It is definitely a big sign you might have gastroparesis (tho there are other reasons and sometimes gastroparesis develops because of something else and is therefore temporary).

Soup is definitely a good food to eat. Any meat or vegetable in it will be soft and tender and soft and tender means it's easier to digest. The same goes for things like noodles vs bread. Noodles will be easier to digest then bread. Liquid fruits and vegetables are easier to eat then solid.

One suggestion I'd give is limit intake of high fiber foods. Fiber is super hard to digest and sits in the stomach longer than most foods. Boiling vegetables makes them easier to digest tho tbh mine is bad enough I usually drink my vegetables (buy the expensive produce aisle stuff and drink like half a glass a day). I believe corn and I think cherries are also supposed to be avoided because they often form a bezoar in the stomach which makes it even harder to digest food.

Avoid high fat content and greasy foods. Go for fat free or 1% milk products when you can. Anything higher is harder to digest. Use margarine instead of butter. Don't eat cold pizza (I miss it smh lol). Air fry things or throw them in the oven, don't use an oil fryer.

Avoid tough meat. Chew meat thoroughly. Really, chew everything thoroughly. Lean meat is also easier to digest. I honestly probably don't get enough protein and should get those fancy protein drinks or replacement bars. Give em a try if you want.

I don't eat spicy food much but it does irritate the stomach and can make nausea worse so it's recommended you avoid it.

Also try to avoid eating skins on fruits (apples, grapes, cherries, etc). These are also tough to digest.

Listen to your stomach. If you're feeling bloated and nauseous and a meal is coming up, don't try to force regular food down. I usually eat a small serving of 1% cottage cheese and/or slow drink a breakfast essential for a meal if I need to. You can always snack later if you feel like it.

Make sure you're not eating and then going to bed immediately after. Give your body a few hours to digest it first. As someone who sometimes naps after meals, it's not fun to wake up nauseous and that's just an hour or 3 hour nap. Doing a whole night isnt a good idea. Sleeping slows digestion down even more.

Drink water after you eat. Water aids in digestion. You can still drink too much water and make things worse obviously but drinking after a meal even just a little bit often makes my stomach feel better and often will even make me feel a little less bloated if I was dumb and ate too much too fast.

Good luck with everything. Hopefully you can get some control over this issue.

[thatoneconfusedartist]

anybodyye here like angel guys that my girlfriend designed so epicly

[candie-caine]

i should throw up on aira. sometimes when i get super excited about things i feel like i’m about to throw up and seeing aira makes me go GECTJ SLSBFKv mx Jebsj!’vnvn!!!!!! so if i ever saw her face to face i would throw up on her

[adrift-in-thyme]

Day 14: Captivity (Sky)

Ao3 link

Cw for Cia being creepy (again), non consensual touching, vomiting, and attempted mind control

Ever since I read @skyward-floored ‘s fic for Febuwhump day 15 I’ve been obsessed with the idea of Skyward Sword Link having lightning powers. Also I love the idea of the other Links encountering Cia sooo that’s why this is exists

————————

“Well, well looks like I’ve caught myself a monster.”

Sky drags his protesting eyelids open to scowl at the approaching sorceress. It’s been hours since her lackeys dragged him into this cell, and he’s been waiting for the moment when their leader would make an appearance. It was only a matter of time, after all.

Now, as she stalks over to him, her words ringing in the silence, Sky wishes she’d taken a bit longer.

“What do you want with me?” He demands, leaning away as Cia reaches out to grasp his chin.

After what Wars has said—and not said—about her treatment of him, even being close to her makes his blood boil and skin crawl. And what she’s just called him only makes it worse.

He’s been dubbed a lot of things, but never a monster. Especially not by someone whom he wouldn’t hesitate to call the same.

Her nails dig into his skin, and she turns his head this way and that, inspecting him with a smirk. He isn't sure she sees him in quite the same way as she sees the unfortunate captain, but given how she looks at him, she just might. The thought makes him nauseous.

“That remains to be seen,” she replies, airily. “Have you told them yet?”

His eyes narrow, and she laughs, a sinister sound that echoes off the walls.

“I suppose I must specify. Have you told your fellow heroes that you’re to blame for their fates?”

Sky inhales sharply.

How does she—

“I know many things, Skyloftian,” she croons. She removes her hand from his face, trailing a finger along his cheek as she does so. “You’re cursed. The dark magic of it emanates from you. I could detect it from miles away.”

Of course, she could. Inwardly, Sky curses. Why did they have to land in Warriors’ Hyrule of all places? And during this time period?

Cia is gazing at him more intently now, a curious expression on her face. It’s almost as though she’s just seeing him for the first time, and Sky scoots back, wishing he could escape her prying eyes.

“Your spirit is not the only part of you that’s cursed, is it?” She asks, in a hushed voice. She reaches out once more, dark purple magic twining about her fingers. “Oh no. Your entire being is cursed!”

Sky doesn’t even have a second to prepare before she presses her palm to his chest, and pain explodes in him, so forcefully he sees stars. He chokes on a scream, back arching, lungs burning as her magic sears its way through his veins. It’s searching for something, though what he can’t be sure. Not when his thoughts have turned hazy, his mind unable to focus on anything except the pain.

It feels like she’s tearing him apart.

And maybe that’s exactly what she’s doing. Because then, she makes a triumphant sound and he feels something inside him jolt, like a key turning in a lock. Seconds later, the room goes a blinding, bright white as he is undone.

Hot, crackling tendrils of electricity streak out from his fingertips, zipping around the room, burning walls and floors. Wooden surfaces go up in flames, the torches lighting the cell turn to ash, the chains encircling his wrists begin to vibrate.

And he’s back in that realm of endless water and sky, back standing before Demise, sword held high to catch the lightning he throws.

Heedless that the god’s power won’t stop there.

The chains break and fall to the floor, yet still, he can’t move. Tears spring to his eyes and roll in rivulets down his cheeks. Cia’s laughter fills his ears, along with the deafening sound of the unruly power spouting from him.

Any moment now, he’ll simply combust, he’s certain of it.

But it stops before he can. Cia drops her hand from his chest, still chuckling. Head pounding, body trembling, Sky pitches forward and vomits.

“Well, well, hero of the sky,” she murmurs, regarding him like a choice specimen. “You have the power of a god. Do you even know how to use it?”

Sky squeezes his eyes shut, trying to breathe past the pain. He can still feel it, Demise’s lightning searing through his body, igniting his very veins with agonizing power. He’s trapped by it, held captive by both of the curses the god bestowed on him.

“You can use it to fight, once you can control it,” Zelda had said. “You can use it for good.”

But it’s hard to take comfort in that when having this power at all feels so incredibly wrong. It’s as though he’s a living, breathing memorial to Demise, his last two acts of destruction existing as one.

He bites his lip so hard it bleeds.

Cia steps forward and her presence suffocates him. How could Warriors even stand to be near her in a fight? Much less like this, her unwilling captive.

“I can teach you how to use them,” she is saying now, and her hands are on him again, tilting his face upward. He drags his eyes open to meet her gaze. There is nothing in those eyes, no life, only emptiness, and hatred. “That kind of might must not go to waste.”

Sky shakes his head, steeling his nerves for the unpleasantness that will undoubtedly come next.

“I already have a teacher.”

Comprehension dawns across her face and her expression darkens.

“All of you,” she snarls, “every single one of you cursed heroes, always choose her.”

Magic is in the palms of her hands once more, he can feel its chill creeping along his skin. He tries to pull away but thick, dark tendrils of it wrap around him, holding him in place.

“But I’ll make you choose me.”

A rush of magic invades his mind, sickening and clawing and strong. Sky goes rigid. Panic streaks through him, as hot and fast as the lightning that sparks at his fingertips, and he fights. Desperately, hopelessly, he fights even as her dark power dulls his thoughts, and fills his mind, beginning to bend him to her will.

This twisted thing she is doing to him is a new kind of prison, a different sort of captivity than the chains that once bound his wrists or the curses Demise called upon him and his descendants. She is taking him out and putting something empty and lifeless in its place, a puppet to do anything she pleases. Even if it means dragging Warriors to her side.

And that’s infinitely more horrifying than even an endless string of the same battles.

But his mind is not prepared to fend off magical attacks, and he is exhausted to boot. His hold on his own will begins to slip.

He’s going to fall, he can feel it. It’s that same sensation as when he fell off the edge of Skyloft as a young boy, that same plummeting in his gut, racing of his heart. Sky grits his teeth, trying to not to let himself careen off that edge.

“Hey! Hands off him, you creep!”

Suddenly, Legend’s voice breaks through the sound of her magic rushing in his ears. With an outraged screech, Cia turns toward the doorway, and for a moment her assault stops. Sky doesn’t wait for her to regain her senses.

He closes his eyes and focuses just as Zelda taught him, grasping the power hidden deep within, drawing it out, slowly, carefully. And then he lets it loose.

Cia flies backward, with a bloodcurdling scream, and slams into the wall. She slides down it and hits the floor, unconscious, twitching as electricity runs up and down her body.

Sky collapses forward to his hands and knees, feeling breathless and dizzy.

“What in Hylia’s name was that?” Legend cries, running up to his side. When Sky raises his head, the veteran is staring down at him, eyes wide, hands pressed against his forehead. “You-you’ve got lightning powers now?”

Sky shakes his head with a weak smile. “It’s a long story.”

Legend huffs an exasperated sigh and bends to help Sky to his feet.

“When Four said we all had secrets, I knew he was right. But I never thought you were hiding something like that.”

His legs nearly give out as the Skyloftian stands, and belatedly he realizes he’s trembling. That was close, much too close. Just a few more moments and…

“You know what? We can talk about it later.” Legend begins to lead him forward, casting a quick glance over his shoulder as he does so. “And believe me we will talk about it later. But for now, lemme get you out of here before you collapse. You look like death.”

Sky can’t help but chuckle at that. One look back at Cia, however, sobers him right back up. She’s still unconscious, though for how long he doesn’t know. He can still feel the remnants of her magic, drifting about in his head, like the mark of her fingers upon his face.

“The other idiots are here too,” Legend says, following his gaze. “They’ll deal with her. Don’t worry.”

“Yeah.” Sky nods and takes a deep breath, trying to collect himself. Still, not worrying is far easier said than done. Especially when he swears, he can feel a pair of eyes boring into his back as he limps from the cell.

[itswhattheycallyou]

Blbrlblrbl

[joratheselfhater]

[chopped-suey]

AURGHGH NEED MORE ACE LOVE STORIES IN MEDIA PLEASEEEEEEE

[fallen-faerie]

make a girl smile today.

give her a sword.

[wanologic]

reminder to take care of your loser human body

[eruhamster]

not to be annoying but i do think a lot of people mischaracterize falin. shes got the most drastic canon v fanon thing going on. which i guess makes sense bc 1. we dont see much of her and 2. lot of the fan stuff are anime-onlies that have seen even less

but i think like a good 90% of the time i see falin-centric art or posts im like hrm hrm hrm thats all wrong no nope no-siree

she's just a cool chick that takes life as it comes, doesn't hold grudges even against a mother that apparently was trying to beat the magic outta her, finds her older brother the coolest person in the world, and has autism about observing life (and death, she loves the ghosts she has a connection to) and nature and taking care of things (including taking care of her brother, which is why she's even in the dungeons; she saw her scrawny mess of a brother and decided she had to fix that).

and i think my favorite part that people don't talk about is... she would have done the same for marcille or laios if it were one of them that was eaten. you could see it in her eyes:

it's what shuro misunderstands about her. it's easy to see her feminine, cute, good girl pieces and forget the rest of her. but she loves things to an ends-of-the-earth extent; the kind of caring that makes you a little insane. and that's how I think she and laios end up on the same page with their weirdness. they have different interests, but they are the same level of committed to those interests.

it's easy to love her, because she probably loves you just as much, if not more.

EDIT: for the love of god stop reblogging this only to add some comment or tag or reply saying 'op you forgot [BLATANTLY FANON INTERPRETATION]'. falin as we know her is not a pushover/people pleaser/infantilized, see this version of my post. also stuff like 'female shuro was in love with laios in the genderbent comic' and 'falin was going to marry shuro because she felt bad' are just things you made up in your head

[saintl-y]

Guys I'm so sad I was looking for Freelatta fics and all I found was non-con shit please save me