#dr emeto

[furbhii]

continuing queuing up some of the art i did for paperhatober over on twitter. the link to the prompt list is in the source.

day 20, 21: Green, Vintage

[sevcasejay1chicago]

Ear infections- Jay Halstead

Authors note: you guessed it, home girl is sick again. I wrote this fic a while ago, but it applies to me right now so I figured with my lack of current content, I’d post it.

Again, to all those waiting for ficrecs, I am working on them. I’ve been having some major writers block while dealing with some new medical issues and mental health issues. Thank you all for your support and love. I hope you enjoy this fic! ❤️

Summary: You wake up with an ear infection and migraine. The Halstead brothers come to your aid.

Warnings: mentions of sickness, mentions of needles, mentions of medications, mentions of vomiting.

~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up just like you always did with Jay, but the ear that was laying on his chest felt like it was on fire. You muffled a groan and pulled away from Jay, attempting not to wake him. Unfortunately, Jay was a light sleeper so he groggily reached out for you.

“Wha time is it?” Jay mumbled, placing a hand on your thigh. He was sure the alarm didn’t go off yet.

You sighed, looking over at the red numbers on the digital clock. “It’s only 5. Go back to sleep.” You murmured, leaning forward and running a hand through Jay’s hair.

Jay cracked his eyes open more when your hand came in contact with his forehead. Your normally cool hand was hot. He studied you in the dark. He could see your right hand cupping your ear and your face pinched in pain. Jay grabbed the hand you were running through his hair and kissed the back, sitting up as he held it. Before you could react, Jay’s right hand made contact with your forehead. Jay sighed in sympathy. “Baby. Your burning up.” Jay whispered.

You nodded your head slowly, tears now leaking from your eyes. “It hurts.” You whispered, leaning your head into Jay’s shoulder.

Jay kissed the top of your head. “What hurts sweetheart?” He asked, rubbing your back as you shook against him.

“My ear. Can’t hear.” You choked out, trying not to sob as your resolve finally broke. “Need Will.”

Jay was alarmed. You had an intense fear of needles and hospitals like Jay, so you never asked for a doctor or went willingly. “Okay baby girl. Let’s call him, okay?” Jay said, kissing your head again.

You nodded and let Jay move away, but when he stood, you scrambled after him. “No.” You squeaked, reaching for his arm. Jay stopped and let you latch on. “I’m comin.” You whispered, looking at Jay with big, scared eyes.

Jay nodded, “of course sweet girl.” He said, leading you into the bathroom once he got his phone off the night stand. Jay placed you on the counter as he called Will, rummaging through the cabinet.

Will: Jay, it’s like 5 am. What the hell man?

Jay: I need you. It’s Y/n. Jay could hear Will shift in bed, whispering to Nat that he’d be right back.

Will: What’s wrong?

Jay: Thinking she’s got an ear infection. I’m about to check her temp. She asked for you.

Will: put her on.

Jay put the phone on speaker and handed it to you to hold.

“Will?” You whimpered, leaning your head into Jay’s shoulder once again.

“Hey you. What’s going on?” Will asked, voice deep with sleep.

“My ear hurts so bad.” You sobbed. “I can’t hear Will.” You explained, lightly tugging on the earlobe.

Jay sat you up and swiped the thermometer across your forehead. “Hey man. It’s 101.6.” Jay sighed, kissing your forehead.

Will sighed on the other end of the phone. “Jesus Y/n. You don’t do anything half way.” Will joked, moving about to get some clothes on. “I’m gonna run to Med and get some ear drops and antibiotics. Jay, you need to work on getting her to eat something and get that fever down. I’ll be there soon.” Will instructed, immediately hanging up.

You sighed and handed Jay his phone back before leaning into his chest. Jay held you for a minute, leaving a lingering kiss on the top of your head. “Baby? What can I get you to eat?” Jay asked, leaning back to look down at you.

You shook your head. “No food.” You whimpered, keeping your eyes closed. “Migraine.”

Jay sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose as he thought. “Okay sweetheart. You gotta eat something.” Jay whispered, leaning over to flip the lights off, knowing that it normally aggravates your migraines. “How about an apple sauce?” Jay bargained. “If you eat that and drink some Gatorade, you might feel a bit better before Will gets here.” He coaxed, rubbing your arms as you shivered against him.

“Kay.” You mumbled, leaning further into Jay’s hold, wrapping your legs around his waist. “M cold.” You huddled up as close as you could get to him, hating the way you shook to your core.

Jay wrapped his arms around you, attempting to provide you with some body heat and comfort. “Okay baby girl. Want my army sweatshirt?” Jay asked, snuggling his nose into your neck as he felt you nod against him. “Okay. Hold tight.” Jay said, lifting you up after you wrapped your arms around his neck. Jay walked you into the bedroom, sitting you on the bed while he went to the closet to find the requested hoodie.

“Ummm. It’s in your drawer.” You whispered, pointing toward his dresser.

Jay chuckled, going to where you led him. “Now, why is that?” Jay lightheartedly joked, pulling it out of the drawer.

“Smells like you. Traps it.” You murmured, lifting your hands so that Jay could put the sweatshirt on you.

Jay smiled as he gently slid the item of clothing on you. He always wondered how you got his smell back into that sweatshirt, and now he knows your secret. What you don’t know is that he will now be storing your favorite shirts of his in his drawers to keep the scent for you.

“Thanks.” You mumbled once the sweatshirt was placed on your form. You hummed in delight as Jay leaned down and kissed your forehead.

“Time for apple sauce and meds baby.” Jay murmured, bending down to pick you up again. He waited until your face was in his neck before he started walking. It was still dark out so he was gonna need some light to see what he was searching for and you had a better chance of not being bothered if your face was hidden in his neck.

Jay walked into the kitchen and flipped on the light. You kept your face tucked against his neck as he went about getting the things you needed. He grabbed an apple sauce from the pantry and one of your bottles of Gatorade before turning on the pantry light and cracking the door. Once he had the items sat on the counter, he went to flip the main light off before placing you on the counter.

You pouted at Jay, poking your bottom lip out and giving him the saddest face you could muster. “Jaaaayyyy.” You whined, missing his contact and not wanting to put anything in your body.

Jay chuckled, having stepped a few feet away to put some coffee on for himself and possibly Will. “Y/nnnnn.” Jay mimicked back, glancing at you from the coffee pot. “Nope. Not the face. You have to eat.” Jay said, turning away from you and standing strong.

You knew the face almost always got you what you wanted, but it was a long shot when it came to your health. You sighed, looking down at the apple sauce packet in your hand. “Fiiine.” You groaned. “Open it?” You requested, holding it out toward Jay like a child.

Jay was amused, but also worried. You tended to act more childish the higher your fevers got. “Yes ma’am.” Jay chuckled, clicking the last button to start the drip before he made his way back to you. He effortlessly opened the packet and held the pouch to your lips. “All of it.” He stated, leaving no room for argument.

You rolled your eyes but compiled. You knew Jay meant well and was also following orders from Will, but you were so scared of throwing up from your migraine. You pulled back about half way through, covering your mouth with one hand and holding your stomach with the other.

Jay sighed, placing the pouch to the side and reached up to pull your hair away from your face. “Shhhhh. Just breathe through it.” Jay soothed, reaching for his phone again. “Nice and slow. I’m gonna have Will get some Zofran, okay?” Jay asked, not expecting an answer as he called Will and told him the other need.

After a few minutes of careful breathing, the nausea passed and you picked up the apple sauce packet, tears in your eyes. You closed them as Jay reached a hand up to cup your face, rubbing his thumb across your cheek and catching the tears on the left side. Will would be there in about 5 minutes, so all you had to do was wait.

“Couch?” You asked, placing the empty packet on the counter. You snuggled into Jay, kissing the side of his neck.

“Okay sweetheart.” Jay complied, picking you back up. Once he had a secure hold on you, Jay grabbed your Gatorade before walking into the living room and sitting you down on the couch. He pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and covered your legs before he sat next to you. “You gotta drink some of this and take these pills for me, okay?” Jay said, pulling the pill pack out of this pocket and cracking the Gatorade open before handing it to you.

You nodded slightly before taking the pills from him and drinking it down with a quarter of the Gatorade. “No more. Please.” You whispered, feeling nauseous again.

Jay nodded, taking the Gatorade from you. “No more. Good job baby.” Jay praised, lightly kissing your forehead.

Will knocked on the door, causing Jay to pull away from you. Jay let Will in, pointing to the living room before going into the kitchen.

“Hey sis.” Will greeted you quietly, coming and sitting next to you. “Jay said he just gave you the pills. He’s gonna get the thermometer. How yah doin?” Will asked, placing a hand on your forehead.

You closed your eyes, leaning into your brother in-law’s touch. “Hurts. Nauseous too.” You breathed out, shifting to lean back a bit more as you peered at Will through half lidded eyes.

Will nodded, taking out his scope. “That’s what Jay said. Let me look in your ears, okay? Then I’ll get you all fixed up.”

You nodded your consent and allowed Will to stand up and pull away from you. Will checked your left ear first to compare it to your right. Jay came in as Will began looking at your right ear. You whimpered on contacted, causing Will to apologize profusely and promise he was almost done. Jay came and sat next to you, setting down a bowl and swiping the thermometer across your forehead.

“102 Will.” Jay mumbled, putting the thermometer down and taking your hand in his.

Will sighed, pulling the device away from your ear. “You’ve got a pretty nasty infection Y/n. Looks like middle and outer ear.” Will said, putting the used cover to the side before placing his instrument back in his bag. “I’m gonna give you a shot of Zofran, then I’m gonna leave you and Jay with your ear drops and antibiotics. Okay?” Will said, looking between you and Jay.

You nodded, paling at the idea of a needle. Your stomach was already churning. You squeezed Jay’s hand, closing your eyes as you breathed.

Jay saw your struggle, so he reached for the bowl and placing it in your lap. Will gathered your hair, holding it out of the splash zone with one hand and grabbing the prepped needle with the other. Will and Jay made brief eye contact before Will stuck the needle in your arm at Jay’s nod.

The prick sent you over the edge, gagging into the bowl Jay held in your lap. Will was quick to inject the medicine before tossing the needle in his bag to take care of later, but be out of sight for you and Jay. Will helped balance the bowl while Jay slid closer to you, trying to provide you with some comfort.

“Sh Sh Sh. It’s over. We’ve got you. It’s alright.” Jay kept saying, trying to convince you, but also himself. “It’s okay hunny. It’s alright.” Jay soothed, rubbing your arm where Will poked you in order to stop the throbbing.

You nodded, finally getting ahold of yourself and leaning back into Jay. Will took the bowl and went toward your bathroom to take care of it. “Sorry.” You whispered, still trying to catch your breath.

“No sweetheart. It’s alright.” Jay said, kissing your temple. “You know I completely understand.”

“Well, she needs to take more fever reducers. Those just came back up.” Will said, coming back into the living room. “Let’s give the Zofran a few minutes to work. Then you need to eat something else and take more meds. Okay?” Will said, coming up to you and Jay, grabbing his bag. “I’m gonna go back home. You guys take it easy today and call if you need anything.” Will said, coming and placing a kiss on the crown of your head and ruffling Jay’s bed head before leaving.

Jay pulled you into his arms, eyeing the medicine bottles Will left for you on the table. Jay felt zoned out. A lot had happened in less than an hour and he was still exhausted, so you had to be too. “Baby?” Jay whispered, noticing your breathing beginning to even out.

“Hmmm?” You hummed in answer, feeling completely zapped.

“I’m gonna call in for us. Think you can try some more apple sauce and take those meds before we go back to bed?” Jay asked, pushing your hair away from his face.

“Kay.” You mumbled, not having enough energy to fight. The Zofran worked quickly, so you didn’t see why not.

Jay made a quick call to Voight to let him know of the situation as he grabbed another apple sauce for you and some more fever reducers. Though he had to force you awake, you took what he gave you willingly before letting him carry you back to bed.

[blurrymango]

Flug with a stomach ache. Nausea too. Prolly a bit more than just that though.

Maybe he just overate. I know this happens to me when I overeat!

[scpwiki-official]

Bang my head against the wall//Grab the knife, grab the salt

[bellysoupset]

I think I've finally figured out why I can't seem to finish the Wendy/Vince story and it is because I'm a bad person.

[vicvinegarandhughhoney]

Sicktember Day 12- "You're not fine, you're throwing up"

The pallor in Coop's cheeks deepens. His eyes flutter closed as he pushes back from the patient on his stool, pulling off his gloves, and it dawns on Neela all at once that Abby was right.

“Fuck.” he whispers again, nostrils flaring. “Fuck.”

@sicktember

[pan-fried-autism]

Jack you dumb bitch will your pay some concern to your fucking wife

[shion-yu]

A Safe Place (part 4/4) [day 24]

Cliff’s past experiences in hospitals have all been bad. For @monthofsick day 24: Panic and @badthingshappenbingo Paralyzed by Fear. 3,698 words, original work, TWs emeto (mild x1), hospital/surgical content, child abuse/trauma. If you'd like to skip the first half which is a childhood flashback, control-find the word “eighteen”.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 - This is the final part! Thanks for sticking with me guys.

Cliff’s fear of hospitals first began when he was three years old. He’d been inside the hospital several times because his dad worked there, but he hadn’t really processed it as anything significant until one day when he went there with his mother, who’d been tasked with watching him because the nanny was off. Cliff had been doing everything “wrong” that day, and Hana Barrows had reached her limit after a spilled glass of orange juice. She dragged him by the wrist to the car and drove to the hospital, swearing loudly all the way there. Cliff was silent because even back then he knew that saying anything would just make things worse.

Hana brought Cliff up to Dr. Claude Barrows’ office without warning, ignoring the secretary shouting after her as she passed without signing in. She yanked Claude’s door open without knocking and found him hunched over a pile of paperwork.

“What in the - Hana! What on earth are you doing here?! Why is Cliff here?”

“I’m not a babysitter!” She shouted as she shoved Cliff towards his father, who would have fallen on his face had Claude not caught him. “You promised me I’d never have to babysit!”

“Keep your voice down,” Claude hissed. He sat Cliff on the chair he’d been sitting on and turned to his irate wife. “It’s one day in his entire life Hana, one goddamn day.”

Hana let out an angry groan of frustration and slapped her hands on Claude’s chest, grabbing the lapels of his lab coat and pulling him forward. “I never wanted this! I’m not doing it!”

They squabbled for another few minutes, young Cliff staring at his velcro-up shoes and distracting himself trying to remember how the last nanny had taught him how to tie laces. He’d forgotten how after his mom fired her, because Cliff had been too attached to her.

“You can’t leave him here Hana, I’m working,” Claude said finally, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Well figure it out, because I’m not taking him home with me,” Hana snapped back. With that she stalked out of the office, not stopping despite Claude shouting after her. He followed her out, and Cliff was left alone in his dad’s office, on his big spinny office chair, with no idea what he was supposed to do now. He was old enough to know that his parents didn’t like him, although he didn’t understand why. He didn’t talk much but they still said he was too noisy. His big sister Moira was nice to him, but that was when she was around. Usually she was too busy with her high school friends and sports to be home much.

Cliff tried to climb down from the chair, but it was really tall and he was afraid of falling. Still, he eased his lower half down, stretching his short legs to try and feel for the floor. He felt it all at once when he fell, smacking his forehead on the hard floor. He bit his lip, trying not to cry. His parents hated when he cried. Still, he couldn’t help it as a few little tears rolled down his chubby cheeks.

“Did you fall, honey?”

Cliff looked up to find a young woman kneeling in front of him. He nodded, wiping his face with tiny fists. “Aw, poor thing,” she said.

“He’s my son. Do you like kids?” Dr. Barrows was back, standing in the doorway - without Cliff’s mom.

“Yeah, totally,” the girl said. “Sorry Dr. Barrows, it’s just I heard a kid crying and the door was open so-”

“It’s fine,” Cliff’s father responded. “Actually, I need you to watch him for the rest of the day.”

“M-me? But, um, I’m a medical student, I don’t think...”

“Part of being a doctor is doing what your attending orders, and I’m telling you to babysit my kid until my shift ends at seven,” Dr. Barrows said sharply. “Is that a problem?”

“No - I mean, sort of, my clinical ends at four, and-”

“Great. I don’t care what you do with him, just keep him out of the way. I’ll pay you for your time.” Dr. Barrows ignored any further protest from the student and shoved two hundred-dollar bills in her hand before leaving.

The student shook her head in disbelief. “Alright, Cliff is it?” She asked. Cliff nodded, clutching the hem of his shirt nervously. “Right. Well, Cliff, I guess it’s you and me until seven...”

The student was nice, all things considered, but she clearly had no interest in babysitting. She had long legs and walked so quickly that Cliff had to run to keep up. A lot of times she’d turn a corner before he did and he thought he’d lost her, but she always found him again. They ate lunch in the cafeteria and she let him draw with a pen and a piece of printer paper while she did work. Cliff honestly didn’t understand what was going on, but he went with it because he was taught not to complain and didn't want to be left behind.

It was around 5pm when the student said, “You’d rather be with your dad, right? He has a pretty cool facial reconstruction starting now. Let’s go watch.” She led Cliff to the gallery, a large room with chairs above the surgical theater with a glass window for an audience. Cliff’s dad was scrubbed in, hyper focused and didn’t notice the spectators. “The surgery will last a few hours,” the student told Cliff. “I’m going home, so just stay here and don’t move until your dad comes and gets you.”

Cliff looked at her, confused. She was going to leave him here by himself? “It’s fine,” she said. “Your dad’s right down there. Just stay where you are and whatever you do, don’t move from this room, got it?” Cliff had no other choice but to nod obediently. Then he was alone.

At first, Cliff was excited to see what his dad did for work. A large woman was lying on the table - sleeping, Cliff thought - and everybody was dressed in funny clothes. His dad was wearing a long mint gown, goggles and a puffy scrub cap, which made him laugh. That laughter died in his throat when he saw his father take a long, silver knife and cut into the sleeping woman’s face.

Cliff screamed, but nobody was there to hear him. He started to panic and it felt like there was no air in the room. There was blood and the sound of a drill. Cliff began to cry, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the horrible scene. His father seemed to be tearing this lady’s face apart, and he did so for two hours before pulling the skin back up and sewing it all back together.

“Wonderful,” his father said in a confident tone. “Good work gentlemen.” Someone was helping him take off his bloody robes. At this moment, he finally looked up at what should have been an empty gallery, but instead he saw his traumatized three year old son. “What the hell? Is that my son?” Cliff heard him say loudly. Cliff was terrified. What if his father got mad and did the same thing to him? He hid under a chair in the corner of the gallery until his father flew into the room and dragged him out.

“I’m sorry, I stayed like she told me to, I’m sorry,” Cliff sobbed. He was so scared, pushing his father’s face away. He kept thinking of how bloody his dad’s hands had been. “Don’t hit me!”

“Cliff, shut up, you’re embarrassing me,” Claude said angrily. “It’s not your fault though, that stupid medical student - her career is over,” he growled. “Come on. Let’s go home.” He picked Cliff up and carried his crying child out of the hospital, and together they went home. They never talked about what Cliff had seen, but for years he had nightmares about it. He was scared of what his father was capable of, and every time Claude yelled at him or hit him, Cliff wondered if it would go further - if he’d end up on that table being cut up next if he didn’t behave.

By the time Cliff reached middle school, he understood that his father’s job was to be a surgeon and that he actually helped people, even if it was scary - and horrible - to see in person. But when he had his stomach ulcer and had to be hospitalized for a few days, his fear of hospitals was renewed and solidified. His parents were furious at him. Even with a fever and in so much pain, his father yelled at him every step of the way. Every time Cliff cried, or threw up, or panicked because he was afraid of needles, it was made ten times worse by his parents’ obsession with Cliff not spoiling their image of what a perfect son should be like. The pressure they put on him while he was in the hospital just made him sicker. It was a terrible experience, and Cliff vowed never to let himself get sick enough to end up in a hospital again.

Unfortunately, these sorts of decisions are not truly one’s own. Now Cliff was in the hospital with pneumonia, and although he was eighteen and told himself he was an adult who knew better, he was still scared. It was a different hospital, but everything smelled the same. The nurses acted the same - nice, but brisk. He felt the same helpless feeling of being surrounded by people who didn’t understand him, and most of all he was terrified of his father finding out he was here. He was sure he’d be furious if he discovered Cliff had ended up here after disrespecting his mother by leaving home. He thought about ripping the IV tubing out of his arm and making a run for it, but he didn’t think his legs would hold him.

When Elliot was next to him, Cliff felt like he could keep it together. After all, he’d never had someone like Elliot to hold on to during these scary moments before. But now Elliot had gone home for the night and Cliff was alone in a tiny room without windows in the hospital, and he was losing it.

Cliff didn’t realize he was having a panic attack until the nurse came in because his heart monitor was going off. She tried to settle him down, speaking to him in hushed tones and reassuring him that he was safe, but he didn’t believe her. All he could think about was his prior bad experiences in hospitals. His entire chest felt tight and he was crying, which made it difficult to breathe in conjunction with his already junky lungs.

“Cliff, you need to slow down your breathing for me,” the nurse said, but Cliff couldn’t. He couldn’t control it. He was just as scared as the day he’d hid under the chair above the operating room from his father, abandoned and afraid to trust anybody.

The thing that did stop him panicking was the uncontrollable coughing fit that came on. All the tears and snot that came with crying choked him, and then he couldn’t stop. He coughed until he vomited onto his lap, tears and mucus mixing into a horrible puddle that he could feel seeping through the sheets onto his legs. He was so disgusting, he couldn’t stand himself. Elliot was right to leave him here alone.

The nurse called the other nurse for backup, and soon they were changing Cliff’s sheets together, changing his nasal cannula to a simple face mask while he was so snotty from crying, and one of them administered something through his IV that made him feel sleepy. Cliff’s nurse asked him if it would make him feel better to call his boyfriend.

“What time is it?” Cliff asked, his voice hoarse from crying and throwing up.

“Eleven,” she told him.

Cliff shook his head no. He had already woken Elliot up enough times this week. “It’s okay. He’s probably asleep.” They hadn't agreed on a time that Elliot was going to come back, Cliff realized. Elliot had said he’d be back in the morning. The morning could be eight, or it could be as late as noon. That was, if Elliot came back at all. No, he'd come back. Elliot kept his word - usually. Then again, Cliff had never expected Elliot to trick him into coming to the hospital. He understood he was really sick and needed help, he did, but the betrayal still stung.

After his nurse did another albuterol treatment through the mask, she changed Cliff back to a new (not snot-clogged) nasal cannula and left him to get some sleep. Cliff couldn’t rest though. Even with the lights off, all the machines cast a glow that kept the room too bright. The faint beeping of his heart monitor and the drip of his IV fluids reminded him too much of the last time he was in the hospital, and he felt vaguely nauseous despite being sure there was nothing left in his stomach. He curled in a tight ball and held his knees to his chest, trembling. He missed Elliot and wished he was here to make him feel safer right now. Instead, all he had was himself and a very long night ahead of him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Cliff woke up drenched in sweat. He didn’t know where he was and immediately began to panic, but then he felt someone pushing him back down and shushing him.

“Elliot?” Cliff blinked in confusion. He’d finally cried himself to sleep in the wee hours of the morning but he hadn’t expected to sleep long enough that it was already within business hours. “What time is it?” His voice crackled, laden with wetness, and he let out a congested, barking cough. It made his sides ache and he gripped them automatically.

Elliot smiled at him and ran a delicate hand through Cliff’s damp hair. “Hi baby,” he said fondly. “It’s about nine AM.”

“Really?” Cliff glanced around, slowly remembering the details of yesterday. “I’m so hot,” he muttered.

“I think your fever broke,” Elliot said gently. “How do you feel?”

Cliff considered things. He felt significantly less achy than last night and it was easier to breathe. He didn’t feel like his brain was entirely full of sand - maybe just halfway. “Better,” he said. “Can I go home?”

“That’s up to the doctor,” Elliot said. “I ordered you some breakfast though. Do you feel up to eating? I got you oatmeal and toast.”

Cliff grimaced, remembering all the vomiting he’d done yesterday. “I’m not sure.”

“You can see how you feel when it gets here,” Elliot said. “The nurse said your breathing got a lot better after your second steroid injection.”

Only now did Cliff notice the lack of oxygen tubing on his face. He’d fallen asleep with it on and Cliff was shocked he’d really been so passed out that the nurse had been able to give him IV meds, do vitals, and remove his oxygen without waking him up. He must have been truly exhausted.

“Thanks for coming back,” Cliff said suddenly, looking at his hands instead of Elliot’s face.

“Of course I came back,” Elliot responded. “I promised you, didn’t I?”

Promises didn’t always work out, Cliff thought to himself, but he just nodded yes. “Well, I missed you,” was all he responded. “So thanks.”

He was surprised by the quick kiss that Elliot stole from him, even though he hadn’t brushed his teeth since yesterday morning. “E-Elliot,” he stuttered, red faced as he sat back and covered his mouth with his hands in embarrassment.

“I missed you too,” Elliot said. His smile was so kind and genuine. It made Cliff feel so much better. “You did incredible staying here overnight by yourself.”

Cliff understood that Elliot was babying him a little, but he also realized that he was unable to stop himself from smiling into his hands. Something inside him felt so content when Elliot was proud of him. He wanted to feel like that over and over.

Breakfast arrived and Cliff picked at the food, trying to get down a few bites mostly because Elliot was staring at him so hopefully. He really wasn’t hungry, but he managed half of a piece of toast and two bites of oatmeal before he couldn’t manage any more. It was difficult to eat when his cough was still so harsh, overtaking him at random moments and leaving him doubled over in bed, his arms clutching his sides in pain. At least he managed to keep the food down, though.

The doctor came by shortly after Cliff finished eating and examined him. He listened to Cliff’s lungs and cough, nodding along with his own conclusions. “I believe it’s safe to send you home, but you have to promise to rest and do nothing else for several more days,” he said finally. “How does that sound to you?”

Cliff nodded in agreement. He’d gladly stay in Elliot’s bed for another week if it meant getting rid of this awful cough - preferably, far away from any hospitals. Elliot awkwardly raised his hand a little before speaking. “Excuse me Doctor, but we start classes back at school in the city on Monday. Will he be okay by then?”

“Hmm. You’ll have to play that by ear, but as long as he gets proper rest and takes his meds, no fevers, then probably. Do you have to walk far to get to class?”

Cliff shrugged. Sometimes, not always. Elliot answered for him though. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t walk too much,” his boyfriend said confidently.

“In that case, I’m not concerned about discharging him,” the doctor said. “I’ll put in the orders and we’ll have you out of here in a few hours. I do recommend you keep using a nebulizer at home for a few days and as needed, do you have one?”

Cliff shook his head no at the same time Elliot said, “We’ll get one for him, we just need the medicine.”

“You’ve got someone taking good care of you, I see,” the doctor chuckled. “I’ll write scripts for that too then. Make sure you follow up with an asthma doctor as soon as you can.”

Elliot thanked the doctor several times, Cliff echoing the sentiment with a simple thank you, and then all they had to do was wait for paperwork. In the meantime the nurse helped Cliff get back into normal clothes, took out his IV and detached him from all the equipment. He had sticky residue on his finger and chest from the oxygen and heart monitoring leeds that didn’t seem to want to come off, but it didn’t matter. He’d have plenty of time to scrub it off later. Cliff was just relieved to be escaping this place without a longer stay or his father finding out and showing up.

At discharge, Elliot bundled Cliff up in a warm jacket and hat even though it was late August. He pushed Cliff in a wheelchair down to the lobby, then ran to get the car. Cliff insisted he could walk, but he wasn’t entirely convinced of his own strength right now so didn’t push the matter much. He waited patiently for Elliot and waited to feel relieved for when they had officially left the premises of the hospital. It had only been one night, but it felt like a long time. The fresh air felt good on his skin and he took a deep breath, appreciating it even as it made him cough.

Elliot pulled up at patient pickup and helped Cliff into the car, settling him in the passenger’s seat. “My mom’s gonna pick up all your meds and find a nebulizer for you at home,” he explained as he drove. “We’re going to follow all the directions to a tee, get you straightened up before we head back to school this weekend.” He sounded confident about this plan, as if it were foolproof. “Do you want to shower when we get home, or go straight to bed?”

“Shower,” Cliff said. He didn’t want to smell like a hospital anymore. “Sorry about all this.”

Elliot shook his head. “It’s okay. I mean... I was really scared. But you’re going to be fine, so...”

“That’s what I mean,” Cliff said, looking at Elliot seriously. “I’m sorry for scaring you. And being a burden and crying and... I guess what I’m really trying to say is thank you for being there.”

Suddenly there were tears running down Elliot’s cheeks and Cliff panicked. “Wait, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry!”

Elliot pulled over on the curb and wiped his eyes. He sniffled and gave a tiny laugh at the same time, which sounded funny to Cliff. “I’m just really glad you’re okay,” Elliot said, taking Cliff’s hand in his own and squeezing it. “And you’re welcome. But you’re not a burden and it’s okay. I love all of you, Cliff. When you’re sick or scared and lonely... I want to be there for you. Do you understand that?”

Cliff didn’t answer right away, not trusting his own voice not to waver right now. But finally he said, “I’m trying to.” It was more honest than the automatic ‘Yes’ he had very nearly said.

Elliot smiled a little sadly and leaned over to give Cliff a kiss on the cheek. “Okay, as long as you’re trying to,” he said. He looked both fond and sad. “Now let’s get you home and in bed. We’ve got a big school year waiting for us next week and you’re not getting out of that bed until Friday.”

“The nurse said a little exercise is good,” Cliff pointed out.

“Some very light exercise,” Elliot said. “Bed to couch and back is plenty. Got it?”

Cliff smiled. He found it amusing when Elliot got bossy. “Sure,” he said. “You’re in charge, El.”

Elliot grinned and started driving again. “You’re damn right I am.”

Fin.

[danganronpa-another-scenario]

Danganronpa Another Scenario (DRAS) Introduction

Retelling by Mod Bird, and the original story(Danganronpa Another) by LINUJ! Thank you for reading <3

Special thanks to @turkeyinnovember and @bezearts for being my alpha and beta readers! Love you pookies <3

- This is a Recreyo x Danganronpa Another AU. It is similar to the formers DR scenario, but not.

- The sequel is not taken into account in this story. I cannot connect the two games together.

- This will also get posted to ao3, when daily/deadly life is finished. It is easier to chronologically see it there, but it is slower in releases.

- This blog posts it scene by scene, and has polls to vote on who each crew member can spend time with in ftes. Maybe something else, you tell me.

- The original story is toned down as best as we(mostly just me) whilst keeping the energy and purpose of the story.

- The art style will just be my own, since I'm trying to get back into art after some rough times. I hope you like my artstyle!

Trigger Warnings:

Blood / Gore (VERY IMPORTANT)

Death

Self destructive behaviour

Emeto(aka vomit)

Suggestive things at times (toned down)

Rest Below. This will be updated.

Tags: TBA!

[duck-caake]

🦷 🦷 🦷 🦷

he/him Il 22 || regressor + cg

requests open!!! (list below!)

just a corpse paint wearing little guy that finds way too much comfort in animatronics, arcades, and pizza places.

please keep in mind this is a sfw coping blog for childhood trauma. however if it still bothers you that i reblogged something please just message and ill remove it.

icon by @chocoperrito

dni banner by me :)

🦷 🦷 🦷 🦷

blog cw// horror movies (mild- usually no bl00d, i just have a lot of slasher/horror comfort characters), 420 ments, cursing, food, food talk (positive only, ARFID kiddo), stims, gifs (no flashing lights), illness talk (unresolved digestive issues, occasional tagged emeto ment)

this is a side blog! i follow back from @ la***-b*******m

fictional cgs/sibs/little guys

peppino spaghetti (dad), fake peppino (cg) || glamrock freddy (dad), freddy fazbear (baby sitter/sib), mike schmidt (dad), the daycare attendants (baby sitter), all bonnies (baby sitter/sib), and my springtrap/william afton hcoc (dad) || jason voorhees (little guy), tommy (little guy), brahms heelshire (little guy) || two-bit matthews (little guy)

comfort media

five nights at freddy’s, pizza tower, tmnt, sonic, tf2, spongebob, animal crossing, teen titans, wolverine, deadpool, spiderman, superman, minecraft, edward sissorhands, corpse bride, alice in wonderland, the rock-afire explosion, chuck e cheese, the simpsons, blues clues, bluey, dr. seuss, rainbow brite, classic horror (20’s-60s), horror movies in general, betty boop

interests

comics, coloring, horror movies, videogames, cartoons, plushies/build-a-bear, animatronics/robotics

req masterlist

(check out my #🍕 :: portfolio)

- fake peppino from pizza tower outfit ✔️

- flip! donna from res evil 8 stimboard ✔️

- care bears outfit board ✔️

- fake peppino is a eldritch caregiver ✔️

- fake peppino dni banner ✔️

- the wrath from dbd agere flags X . X . X ✔️

- fake peppino from pizza tower flip headcanons ✔️

- bandit from bluey is an age regressor/playmate ✔️

- nightmare bonnie (fnaf4) cg icon ✔️

- bucky and steve (marvel) cg headcanons • • • LOADING

- nightmare bonnie (fnaf world) agere outfit

- green goblin from spiderman/marvel agere outfit

not requests:

- cg! peppino spaghetti from pizza tower mood board

- mario and luigi from the mario bros movie mood board

- mario bros outfit board

- peppino spaghetti from pizza tower outfit board

- bingo from bluey outfit board

- socks from bluey outfit board

- pizza tower fun farm level outfit board

- amanda young from saw is a caregiver

- peppino from pizza tower is a caregiver

- beef tobin from the great north is a caregiver

- bowser from mario bros is an age regressor/caregiver

- mario from the mario bros is a older sibling cg

- luigi from the mario bros is a age regressor

- pavel borsch from vodka! tower is a caregiver

- springtrap from fnaf is a caregiver

- the conductor from the polar express is a caregiver

- jason voorhees is an age regressor

feel free to request stuff on the “not a req” section to bump it up to next in the queue!

🌈 ☀️ 🌈 ☀️ 🌈 ☀️ 🌈

[huntinglove]

Kink tomato and all that (not into emeto) but honestly love to see it. I don’t have the courage to post any kinky f/o stuff publicly, but seeing you do just that makes me feel like maybe I can too. Someday.

tl;dr simon vomiting gives me hope :)

Thank you so much!!

It took me a bit of courage to start posting about that stuff, but I'm slowly learning to post for myself and no one else. If other people like my posts/art that's wonderful, but that's not my main goal at all

Besides, I find it fun to be able to get off on stuff that people say to try to make me upset!! Thinking about my F/Os throwing up gives me the biggest boner in the world so I couldn't pass up the opportunity to post that old drawing lmao

I hope you'll also feel brave enough to post whatever F/O content you'd like! Fiction is a boundless playground and you're not hurting anyone by partaking in it 🫂💙

[whumpinthepot]

Hamster Interactive Story

CYOA

Chapter 7. Vet

Previous - Masterlist

Content: Medical care, implied needle and medical drugs, broken bones, hospital and vet setting, poor vision, panic attack, emeto mention implied, dubious handling, dehumanization, pet trope,  Giant/tiny, female cast, cages, being watched, money stress, selective mutism, 

Pov: Ashley, then switches to Hamster for the poll. 

Poll Winner: Rush Hamster to the emergency vet

—

You can’t handle seeing her like this. She’s burning in your hands, and you’re already reaching for your pink jacket. It doesn’t matter if you have to work full time at both your jobs for the next year, she has to go to the vet. 

You can do your makeup in the car. 

You hold her against you, and feel her squirming to try to get more comfortable in your hand. “Shh shh it’s ok, its ok, shh,” you keep shushing her as you swaddle her in a blanket on your lap to keep her safe while driving. 

The vet isn’t busy yet thankfully, and you’re able to get her in before half the day is gone. “We’re going get you allll fixed up Sweet-Pea.” You reassure Hamster in a whisper to the blankets she’s hiding under, and hold it close to you. It’s covering your pyjama bottoms so people can’t notice your lack of tight jeans so easily… 

The doctor working on the floor today is Dr. Reese, and you recognize him from your job. When you unravel the small heap of blanket to reveal Hamster, she visibly cowers under the bright lights, and pulls her hair over herself. This makes Reese chuckle, and he takes over once she’s set onto the examination table. 

Hamster starts crying with that tea kettle whisle to her voice when Reese touches her, but turns her head towards you when she hears your voice. She reaches her tiny chubby hand out for you as if asking to be saved, and your heart breaks all over again. “I’m right here baby girl, don’t worry I won’t leave. This nice man is going to help you.” You want to put your finger down for her, but you have to keep your distance. 

Hamster starts actually screaming once Reese begins prodding at her injury, and it makes you feel sick. You have to leave the room after all, and run to the bathroom to get a hold of yourself, gripping the sink to keep back tears. If you ended up with makeup running down your face, you would be too humiliated to come out, and to your horror, that’s exactly what happens… 

It takes some time to calm down and fix your face, and finally you brave going back into the room to check on your girl. Your eyes are puffy but you hide it well with fresh eyeliner. 

When you see her she’s half awake with a piece of gause taped to her good arm, and a cast being put on the other. She’s just staring off into space with her eyelids drooping, and barely responds to you when you speak. 

Your blood runs cold, and you leave again.

A nurse calls you back in shortly after, and Reese talks to you about the break, what medication to give her, how long the cast should stay on. 

He mentions something off hand, and you’re somewhat caught off guard, “Have you considered having her vision checked? It appeared to me that she was having a difficult time visually focusing on anything past her nose…” 

Thats the sentence that stands out, and your guilt skyrockets at the thought of neglecting her needs. Next thing you know you’re agreeing to an eye exam for the following week, and signing papers that you hardly skim over. 

They hand Hamster back to you in a paper box with holes in it, and inside she’s nested in soft tissues that surround her, with a cast protecting her arm. She’s fully asleep, and not moving. You snap a picture for your blog, and add your GoFundMe link to the description of your post. 

Once she’s back home safely in her cage you leave for work. 

—

—

Credit to @alittlewhump for proof reading <3333 big hearts for you <3

Tag list: @frogkingdom @verkja @whumpsday @octopus-reactivated @marvel-gt @rsitb-second-account @fallen-grace-smd @winged-wolf-s-collection-of-arts @kyp-the-spacekiwi @dramat1ques @ilasknives @hollowgast1 @whither-wander-whump @redd956 @zobodahobo @alittlewhump @blackrosesandwhump @angst-after-dark @sandygarnelle @copperyote @kim-poce @mayisreallygay @smoll-stace @demondamage @vickytokio @sunshiline-writes @whump-in-the-closet

[i-eat-worlds]

The Subject Part 5

B127 does not have a good time in this one

CW: pet whump, medical whump, emeto, B127 has a flashback, implied abuse, implied forced feeding, fear of punishment, character with stutter, self dehumanizing

B127 lay in bed, tucked under a mound of blankets, trying to sleep like he was supposed to. It shouldn’t have been as hard as it was. He could spread out, instead of having to sleep cramped in a cage. The mattress was soft, and the pervasive chill of the lab was nally gone, banished by the soft blankets that Dr. Brenner had graciously provided.

But it didn’t seem to help. No matter how many times the subject tried to sink into the softness of the bed and float away, he was always yanked back to reality by the painful throb inside him. At least now it was only the inside that hurt. Dr. Brenner was very into giving his subjects luxuries, B127 had found. He could feel the soft white bandage gently tapped around his abdomen, the soreness of his ribs finally subsiding thanks to the painkillers he had so been graciously gifted. He should be able to fall asleep, but he just sat there worrying about what the next day would bring.

With Dr. Glassener, he’d at least always know what the day would entail-surgeries, and tests, and afterward, he would get food, and maybe even medicine and bandages if he had been good. But Dr. Brenner could do anything tomorrow. He almost wished the doctor would have told him what was happening tomorrow, but he could guess. At the old facility, first days always involved lots of measurements, tests, and examinations so the doctor could see what they had to work with. It would probably be the same here. B127 forced himself to take a breath-there wasn’t any point in being nervous, he already knew what would happen. He’d done it many, many times. Clinging onto the thought, he slowly drifted off to sleep.

*******************

Alica Perry, night nurse on ward C at the Rory Friedman Memorial Recovery Center was seated at the nurses' station, charting busily, when her attention was drawn by the sound of belching, and then a thump coming from room C6. She stood up, surprised at the fact that the call button hadn’t gone off when she remembered who was in C6.

New patients never dared to touch the call button, and this wasn't going to be any different. His worryingly thin file said that he had spent the last three years bouncing around Hemlock. Most that came in from Hemlock got sent because they were in a coma, three inches from death. The nurse was surprised that he had survived at all. She pulled a pair of purple nitrile gloves on as she entered the darkened hospital room, preparing herself for the smell of bodily fluids.

It was somehow worse than she could have imagined. B127 was rocking back and forth in the far corner of the room, crying and uttering nonsensical phrases to himself. A trail of vomit followed him from the bed to the corner, trailing down his face, and soaking the paper hospital gown. His eyes were dazed, clearly in another place. When she knelt down next to him, she could make out what he was saying. She wished she couldn’t.

“P…please doctor,” He begged, “It is s…sorry. It is so s…sorry for being so bad and v…vomiting. It k…knows it isn’t s…supposed to, please, please don’t make it t…take it back.” B127 was forced to stop by another wave of bile coming up his throat. The extra vomiting caused him to cry harder. “P…please don’t make it eat it, it will do anything else. Please.”

Alica swallowed as she gently placed her hand on his shoulder. “Hey, B127? B127?” She said softly. “B127 can you look at me?”

His gaze immediately fixed on her, before he dropped it, bowing his head a little. The faraway gaze still clouded his eyes. “Please, doctor. It is sorry. It is sorry. It is so so sorry.” He snied loudly. “Don’t make it…it eat it please!”

“I’m not going to, B127.” She gently tapped his shoulder again. “B127 can you look at me? B127?”

This time it worked, the cloudiness gone from his eyes, replaced with fear. “M…ma’am.” He said, quickly rolling into a kneeling position, head down low. “It…It is s…sorry.”

Alica stayed squatting down, not wanting to loom over him. “You don’t need to be sorry. It’s not your fault, you couldn’t control it. I’m not going to hurt you.” He looked like he didn’t believe her. “Can you stand up for me, B127?” The skinny man slowly rose to his feet, wobbly and unstable. He had to lean on the nurse to stay upright as she helped him over to bed. “Just sit down.” She guided him to a non-vomit covered corner of the bed.

“W…What are you gonna do to it?.” B127’s voice shook as he spoke. “Please, it is s…sorry, Please.”

“I’m not going to hurt you, okay.” Alica kept her voice calm and steady. “Hey, can you look at me?”

“Y…yes Ma’am.” He stuttered. “It’s s..sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m not mad.” He sniffled again, a tremor racking his body. “I’m going to tell you what’s going to happen. If there is any part that you don’t like or want to do, then tell me, okay?”

“Yes m..ma’am.” He nervously rubbed his hands together.

“Good.” Alica said, then started the explanation. “First, I’m to clean you up, and I’ll get you a new gown so you can change out of the dirty one…”

“It is sorry it ruined the gown.” B127 interjected.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault. Then, I’m going to change the sheets. Finally, I’m going to look at your bandages, and make sure that it’s still clean. None of this is going to hurt, and if you want me to stop, tell me, okay? I won’t be mad.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” B127 sounded like a broken record. “T..thank you.”

“No problem,” She said as she went to fetch the wipes. “I don’t mind.”

Taglist: @stabby-nunchucks @rainbows-and-whumperflies @wolfeyedwitch @pigeonwhumps

[puppyluvstummies]

hey hunnies! you can call me pink. thx for checking out my blog ♥️ please read this before following/messaging me!

🍄 you must be 18+ to interact w me or you’re getting blocked, no exceptions.

🍄 yes, this is a kink blog for feedism. i’m a fat admirer/feeder, i am not a feedee.

🍄 if i rb something from you and you want it removed for any reason, pls dm me!

🍄 i’m currently in a relationship. i’d love to make platonic friends within the community, but i already have a piggy to feed, please respect that.

what am i into?

🍰 soft/domestic feedism, weight gain, general fat admiration

🍺 burps/eructo

🍩 belly sounds

🍔 farts/eprocto occasionally

🍕 emeto occasionally (will tag #emeto)

💦 mild omo occasionally (will tag #piss or #omo)

🐮 soft pig/cow/pet play

⛓️ soft bdsm (will tag #bdsm)

🍃 intox (will tag #intox)

🐷 mild humiliation (will tag #humiliation or #bdsm)

fine but nah i’ll pass

❌ immobility

❌ death feedism/health play

❌ fat planet stuff

❌ vore

❌ scat

❌ r*pe kink (some cnc is okay)

❌ furries

❌ ddlg/age regression

absolute no-no’s that’ll get you blocked

🚫 racism of any kind (i’m black)

🚫 sexism of any kind (i’m afab)

🚫 homophobia/transphobia (i’m bi & nb)

🚫 ableism of any kind

🚫 fatphobia of any kind

🚫 creep-shots of fat people incl. celebrities without their permission

🚫 kink art of real ppl/celebs

🚫 pro-ana/pro-ed

🚫 stolen/ai generated art

🚫 stolen content from models (if you think something i rb is stolen, pls lmk!!!)

🚫 zoos, b*astiity, p*dophilia

tl;dr i just want this blog to be a respectful, safe space (for me) to express this kink (it’s my blog). always keep in mind that there are human beings on the other end of what you post and we all just want to have a good time horny-posting. thanks for reading, loves!!

[bellysoupset]

I know this has nothing to do with emeto but I'd like to request a fic1... Jonah comes home from a rough shift at the hospital and he's irritated and in a bad mood so he gets into an argument with Leo...

TW: death, but only as context for Jonah's behavior, if you don't wanna read that jump the first 3 paragraphs. Be warned, this one is a punch.

-

Don't get emotionally involved was one of the first things they learned in med school. There was a reason why first years were obligated to do 30 hours in palliative care. By then they weren't expected to do anything more complicated than shadow the head nurse, but the whole point was so they would get used to the concept of death.

Except you don't get used to that idea, or at least Jonah didn't, not when it was a 10 year old. His little patient had been a difficult case, so he wasn't exactly his, Dr. Peters - Jon's supervisor - was much more involved than normally. Still, Jonah did the majority of the visits and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't invested in the boy's well being.

Then they had lost him, halfway through a seizure. Jonah had clocked out shortly after, Dr. Peters telling him to go home, but instead Jonah had spent a good hour gagging over the toilet, until he was completely empty.

The drive home was a blur, Jonah felt completely disconnected from his body, mind still back in the hospital. He wasn't sure what time it was anymore, nor did he care. He just wanted to sleep this horrible day off and hopefully be able to get back to work tomorrow and actually help someone... Save someone...

"Oh there he is," Leo's voice brought him back to the present. Leo's furious voice.

"What?" Jonah kicked the door shut and stripped off his coat by the door, frowning at his boyfriend. He wasn't even expecting him to be in the apartment, Leo had been spending a lot more time in his dorm, since graduation was coming at a fast pace and he had a lot of work to hand in.

"I've been texting you," Leo scoffed, crossing his arms. Jonah didn't have the energy to grab his phone and check. He left it muted during work so he could hear the pager and he hadn't been bothered to check all day.

"Uhm," Jonah yawned, rubbing his eye, "whatever for?"

"Really Jon?" Leo sounded hurt, "look at me."

He forced himself to look and frowned. Leo looked fine, "you look fine... I'm tired, I'm going to bed."

"Wow," Leo raised his eyebrows, blue eyes sparkling, "we had a date tonight, remember? In that stupid fancy place you like? I sat there for nearly two hours waiting for you!"

So that was what he meant, Jonah cringed, noticing Leo was indeed wearing formal clothes.

"Oh shit... I forgot, I'm sorry-"

"I work in the afternoon and I have two different papers to hand in tomorrow and you said you wanted to see me, so I went to the date instead of finishing my papers... Look at me!"

Jonah hadn't realized he had looked away or tuned him out, he just... He didn't feel well. He was emotionally drained and he felt sick and hollow.

"I'm sorry," he grumbled, rubbing a hand over his face, "but tone down the histrionics, will you? You have 90% of all your work done, you're just a perfectionist."

Way to go, he thought sarcastically as his words made Leo flinch as if he had been slapped.

"It doesn't fucking matter if I have 90% done or 0% done, the point is I made time for you and you fucking ditched me in a restaurant," Leo glared at him, "and now you're acting like an entitled prick."

"Okay Leo," Jonah rolled his eyes, his head throbbing and at this point he'd trade anything for just some fucking peace, "okay. I'm sorry, you're right, you're perfect, as always, can I go the fuck to sleep now?"

"You're a dick," Leo sighed, looking defeated. Jonah shrugged, even if he was feeling more and more like he was about to keel over, queasiness washing over him.

"Okay Leo," he repeated through his teeth, eyes burning, "are you leaving now?" his voice broke at the last syllable. Leo's presence had been a surprise and the fight far from how he had picture ending his night, but he didn't want his boyfriend gone.

Jonah felt horrible, actually physically sick, and he wanted nothing more than to just go to bed, with Leo. If he could just keep his mouth shut, then-

"You're not even gonna explain yourself?" Leo asked in a small voice, "really? You don't care at all?"

"I do care," Jonah shook his head, swallowing the lump in his throat, "I do care, I just got caught up in work and- and-" and a kid had died in his hands.

"And?"

"I just wanna go to sleep," it sounded less like a fight now, more like begging. Leo frowned at him and took a step back, further in the apartment, not out. Jonah stumbled forward, towards the bedroom.

"Jonah, what the fuck?" Leo sighed, following him into the suite, "this isn't you, just talk with me-"

He changed directions in the bedroom, instead of sitting on the bed, Jonah staggered into the bathroom, bracing against the sink and opening the register. He splashed his face with water, but it didn't do much to the sticky, claustrophobic sensation. He still smelt like disinfectant, it was making his stomach churn.

"Really? Silent treatment now?" Leo scoffed, somewhere behind him, "you're acting like a child."

Jonah groaned, then gagged over the bowl as the comment refreshened his memory. He heaved, loudly, interrupting Leo, but the dramatic retch only brought up a little dribble of bile.

There was a ringing in his ears, which sounded a lot like someone crying and it took Jonah a whole minute of panting over the bowl to realize it was him. He whimpered, lowering his forehead to the cold stone, feeling Leo's hand in the middle of his back.

"Why didn't you say you were sick?" Leo questioned, squeezing his shoulder, "Jon, shhh... What's hurting? Is this a migraine?"

He didn't suffer with migraines, never had in his life. Jonah shook his head, still bracing against the sink. Despite feeling painfully empty, his stomach was still sloshing uncomfortably, "I'm not- I'm not in pain and I'm not sick."

Behind him Leo let out a snort, "yeah, you just threw up randomly and -"

"Not..." Jonah shook his head, "stress. That's all. I'm fine," he forced himself to straighten up and meet Leo's eyes in the mirror. His boyfriend looked concerned, even if there was a hint of annoyance in his face still.

"You're fine?" Leo echoed, skeptical, "Jonah, you're crying."

"I just need to sleep, that's all," he rubbed his temples, wiping away the tears that were clinging to his lashes.

"Yeah, sure..." Leo frowned, moving out of the way so Jon could walk past him. He stood near the bed as Jonah struggled to undo the buttons of his shirt and quickly gave up, tugging it up.

"Uhm, I think I'm going to go then-"

Jon paused, looking at him, "Leo," his voice simply seemed not to be working suddenly, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I stood you up, it's just..." he couldn't say it, couldn't bring himself to say it out loud, so instead Jonah gulped against the knot in his throat and said, "can... can you stay? Please?" his voice all but melted at the end, as more tears sprung forward and Leo immediately nodded.

"Yes, of course..." he sounded extremely concerned, but for the moment Leo decided against pressing the issue. Instead he sat down on the bed too, before throwing his arms around Jon and pulling him into a tight hug.

It was the tipping point, because then Jonah lost all control and buried his face on his boyfriend's shoulder, sobbing.

His chest hurt and he couldn't stop thinking about the kid... It was only partially guilt over not having been able to do more, most of it was just plain, simple sadness.

Leo's hand cupped his nape and his cheek pressed against Jonah's temple, "shhh love, I'm here," he whispered, "you're alright."

It was so silly and yet it sent another sob through him, causing Jon to cling painfully to Leo's shirt, wrinkling it in his fist, "I'm s-sorry-I-"

"Breathe, Jon," Leo didn't let him go, if anything he squeezed him tighter, "just breathe in, babe."

It took forever, Jon felt like, for the tears to stop and the sobs to calm down. He felt utterly empty and his head was throbbing like hell, exhaustion weighting down his eyes, but he knew he at least owed Leo an explanation after breaking down on him so badly.

He leaned his head back against the headboard, hugging his knees to his chest, "sorry," his voice sounded like he had just gargled with glass, "sorry about this."

"For crying!?" Leo said incredulously, reaching over to touch his knee and stop the light rocking that Jon was doing, "can you tell me what happened?"

Jon nodded, but didn't say anything. Instead he just stared at Leo, exhausted and then, all in one breath, mumbled, "in the morning?"

"Okay..." Leo nodded, more and more worried, "okay, in the morning."

He got up from the bed and calmly stripped down his own clothes, changing into a large hoodie and just his boxers, then circled the bed and took Jon's hands in his, ushering him up so he could at least get rid of the pants Jon had worn all day.

That was all he managed to do before his boyfriend curled up under the blankets, so unlike himself and Leo was left with no option but lie down too. He rolled onto his side, stroking Jonah's cheek. It was wet again, but he was no longer sniffling and sobbing.

"C'mere," Leo sighed, pulling Jon to him. He wrapped him up in a hug and then closed his eyes. Leo's mind was going a mile a minute and despite several minutes passing in the dark, he knew Jonah wasn't asleep.

Eventually he felt his boyfriend move, letting out a long sigh, "I lost a patient today."

"Aw-"

"Jesse, he was 10. He liked my sneakers that have the pride flag. He - He liked the mutants and I talked with him about X-Men evolution, the cartoons and he binged the episodes on youtube and was so excited and-" his voice collapsed under the weight of the tears and Leo hugged him a little tighter.

"I'm so sorry, Jon," he whispered, kissing his cheek, "I'm sorry."

"It's just not fair, that's all," Jonah whispered, hot tears running down the bridge of his nose and Leo's neck, "it's not fair, Leo."

"I know, I know, it's not fair, my love," Leo nodded, kissing his brow.

[chirpbudgie]

gidget angst. set a while post-rtaos.

cw for: emeto (not explicitly described), disassociation, past trauma. mention of weight loss, but it’s not meant to signify an e.d.

It’s the little things that come when you least expect it.

He just wanted to look at pictures of fish.

It feels exponentially harder to breath and tears have already begun to fall.

Don’t make him mad, he doesn’t come unless it’s serious, always the serious room

He does his best to blink away the image of a concrete floor (was the room always this dim?) and probably succeeds in speed-dialing.

he’s spiraling, what is he supposed to do he cant remember he can never remember its his fault please dont be mad

ground yourself how does he do that? he tries to picture the conversation with dr joy but its all blurry fuck he hates blurry faces

he gasps and clutches the table at the bout of nausea. there’s a distant clatter. he can’t make a mess, he’ll be in trouble he’s not supposed to

he doesn’t make it more than a few steps. he crumples to the floor.

(the rest doesn’t make sense in his head.)

“Welcome back, poppet.”

Gidget blinks slowly, trying to get the world back into focus.

“I’ve got you, shh.” A hand scratches at the nape of his neck and it feels nice. He knows the voice from somewhere. There’s footsteps, someone else in the Parable? He can’t see anything, it’s too bright; maybe out-of-bounds?

“Leigh, could you turn the lights off?” Leigh, he knows that name. That’s his friend. He hopes they’re friends. Is there a way you’re supposed to make it official?

The room gets darker and he can see again. He knows the face in front of him, but he can’t figure out

Oh.

“Are you going to throw up again?” The Narrator’s voice is gentle, like he’s made of glass. He feels like he’s made of glass too.

He nods. He flinches.

“Don’t try to stop it, dear.” A bin is held up for him.

And he weeps.

The Narrator rubs his back the whole time, even wipes his face and offers tissues when he’s done. It’s almost enough to make him tear up again.

“How are you feeling?” The fluffy man finally asks. They both know Gidget will likely be out of commission for the rest of the day.

{Like death eating a bologna sandwich,} he manages to sign.

His Narrator can’t stifle a laugh at the nonsense comparison. Gidget smiles too. It makes him feel a little better. Anything would make him feel a little better right now.

“Let’s get you comfortable, dear.” The Narrator helps him out from under the table. Gidget stumbles and has to lean on him, but they make it to the couch. The soreness in his fingers from gripping something is beginning to fade.

(The fuzzy feeling snuck up on him. His brain feels like cotton balls, trying and failing to compartmentalize. And in reality, the stumbling was his knees trembling like a baby deer taking its first steps.)

He snuggles up next to his Narrator. Leigh (his friend! his friend is here too!) appears and helps him drink some water. He didn’t realize how thirsty he was until his hands were on the cup and began to spill it. He whines when it’s pulled away.

“Don’t drink so fast, you’ll hurt your stomach,” his Narrator scolds with no malice. “Take a deep breath with me, love bug.”

Gidget follows along a few times before he’s allowed to drink again. It doesn’t do much to clear his head, but he heeds the warning this time. And still spills.

(He always insists on trying to hold the cup, and it always ends up badly. Maybe Gidget has been looking at sippy cups, but only because he likes the colors. No other reason. He swears his hands aren’t this shaky normally.)

“What are we ever going to do with you,” The Narrator sighs with a smile. Gidget holds his arm so he can pet the man-shaped being’s sweater. It’s the one he really likes when he’s sensory-seeking.

(And Gidget loves to be taken care of. He’s too shy to admit it, but it shows in vulnerable moments like these. Dr. Joy has given him a “diagnosis” on what and why exactly he gets like this, but it’s a little too embarrassing to share. It’s healthier than disassociation, she assured, but it’s hard to separate the two when they’re together.)

“Leigh?” Gidget still isn’t very good at speaking and gets stuck, so it sounds more like ‘luh.’ His point seems to come across just fine, though.

“Leigh will be back in a minute, he wanted to get your blanket,” he soothes.

Gidget yawns at the reminder. He’s feeling a little extra tired, so it must be almost time for his afternoon nap.

He’s covered in a soft weight suddenly and feels himself begin to drift. But he lifts his head a little; there’s this one thing…

His Narrator presses a kiss to his forehead and Gidget’s insides feels like cotton candy. Or, like, a cat purring. It’s a good, warm feeling.

(By now, Leigh has expertly confined him to a weighted blanket burrito. He’s much easier to hold onto, and nobody is happy when Gidget rolls himself off the couch.)

And Gidget is content to doze, head rested on his Narrator’s chest to feel the vibration of his voice and squished into a stanley-sandwich by his friend.

“No, he hasn’t been triggered like that since we first met. I’ve never seen him this lucid after a panic attack… it took him so long to relax.”

“I thought so too. I wish he met his original narrator under better circumstances.”

“I’d like to get him weighed later, he’s much too light and his sensitive stomach isn’t doing him any favors. …Oh dear, he is rather pale, isn’t he?”

(But Gidget won’t remember those snippets of conversation when he wakes half an hour later.)