#i have been violently ill and projectile vomiting for two days

[explorevenus]

before anyone asks:

no, i have absolutely nothing to do with that fucking stupid ass blog and i’m not even going to name it because i don’t want to invoke their bullshit

this blog, explorevenus, is the only blog i own and write for. i barely even check tumblr unless im posting a new story or reblogging to support my friends. i have nowhere near enough time on my hands to even deal with this and the fact that this random fucking loser won’t stop harassing me, my friends, and other writers is exhausting and quite frankly pathetic.

last time i’m speaking on it. don’t send asks about it, don’t give them attention, don’t even entertain it. i’m done

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern AU) - Food

Witchers were known for being tough. For being able to survive conditions a normal human would not be able to. Witchers were stronger, more resilient, resistant to disease, and able to heal faster than humans.

Their bodies were altered to survive on little food, water, and sleep, and to be able to metabolize the poisons they drank to fight. It was very hard to poison a Witcher. They were made to keep going.

Geralt was no exception. When he was on the Path, he could drive for days without proper sleep (sometimes no sleep), and he would only stop for food when he absolutely had to.

Before he started living with Yennefer and Jaskier, it was just him, alone, so he didn't really worry too much about eating and sleeping regularly. He could eat what he wanted, when he wanted, which, admittently was usually a sandwich or microwave item from a gas station. And only when he had enough money after buying fuel.

But then he met Jaskier, and things changed. He aquired an old van so Jaskier wouldn't have to sleep in the dirt on the side of the road, or crammed in the small truck Geralt had been driving. He had to stop more often so Jaskier could eat, or get a decent amount of sleep.

Geralt was a little annoyed at first. He wasn't used to stopping so often. He was a 'We aren't stopping until we get there' kind of guy, but now he had a fragile human to keep alive, so he grudgingly started making regular stops so Jaskier could get something to eat.

Gas stations became unacceptable food sources after a janky sandwich left Jaskier violently ill. Jaskier convinced Geralt (between bouts of vomiting) that eating (real, safe food) regularly was a good thing. Just because he could survive on little food (or suspicious gas station food), didn't mean it was a healthy thing to do.

"Why shouldn't Witchers eat well, Geralt? Why shouldn't they get a decent amount of sleep and take care of themselves?"

"Hm,"

"Because they're Witchers? That's a sh*t argument, Geralt."

"You keep your swords in excellent shape. You make sure they are clean, sharp, and in good repair. You should do the same for your body."

"Hmm."

Geralt thought about it, and admitted to himself that Jaskier was correct. Some of his contracts would not have been nearly as hard if he had been well rested and had been eating better.

He started making sure that he and Jaskier ate regular meals. If it was a quick stop, he made sure it was food from a deli, or other reputable place with actual sanitary food handling standards.

Although sometimes all they could get was questionable gas station food.

Jaskier *holding up two sandwiches*: "Geralt, would you like explosive diarrhea or projectile vomiting?"

Geralt: " I'll take the projectile vomiting."

And then he met Yennefer, and they decided to move in with Jaskier at his house in Oxenfurt.

At first Geralt stuck to his old habits of eating only when he was really hungry and he absolutely had to eat.

He started keeping a small hoard of food in his room. He couldn't really explain why. It was mostly bags of beef jerky, crisps, and granola bars. There were also a few honey buns sprinkled in.

He got over it after Yennefer caught him trying to replenish his hoard.

"Are you actually hoarding food? Like a f***ing hamster?"

"We have food, Geralt! And don't think I haven't noticed you not eating properly!"

"Well, maybe if you would f***ing eat with us three times a day you wouldn't be hungry."

You're supposed to eat three meals every day, you plank! And eat real food, not this junk!"

"You aren't on the Path, and even when you are, you don't have to worry about money for food, so you don't have to starve yourself."

You can keep your snack hoard, but you're going to join Jaskier and I for every meal, or there will be consequences. Do you hear me, Geralt? Consequences!"

"And give me one of those honey buns, I love those things."

Thus, after a brief adjustment period, Geralt got used to the idea of eating regularly. It was odd, sitting down to three full meals every day. He had been so used to being hungry all the time, that it was strange to...not be.

After a few months of eating well, Geralt noticed that his hair and skin looked better too. And then he noticed something else.

He was stood in front of the mirror in his room, studying his reflection. He turned this way and that, and looked at how his usually very well-defined muscles where kind of...soft looking.

Geralt had been concerned and mentioned it to Yennefer. The witch had rolled her eyes and told him he was being silly.

"You aren't supposed to look like a shrink wrapped string of footballs, Geralt. Normal people have a layer of fat under their skin that is supposed to be there!"

"Hm!"

"A Dad Bod? That's not a Dad Bod! And even if it was, so what? What's wrong with a Dad Bod?"

"Hmmm!"

"Oh, for f**k's sake! You aren't overweight, you muppet! You finally don't look like a starving wolf! Good gods, those don't even count as love handles!"

"Hm..."

"Stop being ridiculous! You aren't supposed to look like you've been vacuum sealed. That's just an unhealthy body standard pushed by idiots and morons."

Geralt wasn't terribly convinced at first, but he eventually realized that Yennefer was right. He decided he liked this new body. He noticed that he had more energy, fighting monsters was easier, he was recovering from toxicity more quickly, and he just overall felt so much better.

He did end up with a Dad Bod after putting on some extra weight over the winter when there was nothing much to do but sit around or go to friends and family for holiday celebrations with lots of food.

Geralt got to experience his first food coma that winter. They had gone to Madeleine's house for the winter solstice. She and Yennefer had made lots of food. Geralt had passed out on Madeleine's couch, with crumbs on his shirt front, gravy on his cheek, and his belt and the button on his pants undone to make room for his overly full belly.

More than a few comemorative photos had been taken while he'd slept.

He was self-concious after gaining the extra weight, but Yennefer and Jaskier never made fun of him, or made any derogatory comments. They never commented at all about his love handles, or the extra padding on his belly, which was kind of starting to loom over his waistband. In fact, they seemed to like this 'squishy' Geralt.

They were constanly huggng him, or snuggling up with him on the couch while they watched the telly. Sometimes they even made him lay on the floor and used him as their personal heated cushion.

There was just something comfortable and nice about a soft, warm Witcher belly! It was better than any old pillow or couch cushion.

Sometimes they even fought over who was going to get first pick of what part of him they were going to cuddle.

"You got to put your head on his pillowy boobs last time, Yen!"

"Yeah, well you got to sleep with your face in his tiddies for months!"

"That doesn't count, Yennefer! I was dealing with a traumatic event! I couldn't even enjoy it! And they weren't even this cushy!"

"Tough sh*t, f**kwit, it still counts!"

"It does not, you a**waffle!"

Geralt ended the argument by grabbing both of them and smashing their faces into his tits. The surprised yelps quickly turned into muffled giggles.

When the weather warmed up, turning back into Spring, Geralt spent a little time off the Path, getting himself back into shape. He set up a little workout area outside in the backyard, and put it to good use every day, unknowingly giving their elderly neighbor lady a nice little show.

[mercyprevaild]

“Ew.” - @savedpeople

"Negan," he sounds exhausted yet surprised when he greets the leader who stands in the hall when he opens the door. The visit comes unexpectedly, Rick's pale blue eyes filled with worried and brow arched high as he prays it isn't about abandoning his duties that day. On his hip is a fussing, overtired Judith who is at the terrible height of a stomach bug that's been sweeping through the sanctuary. She doesn't even spare any excitement or attempt to greet like she usually would upon seeing Negan.

"It's really not a good time. I thought you would have gotten my message by now--."

From somewhere inside the room, Carl retches so loudly that Rick looks over his shoulder and cringes, his own stomach churning unpleasantly. The poor kid is sitting on the edge of his bed, pale as a ghost and hugging a bowl. Rick's gaze swings back around to Negan. Just as he makes eye contact, the toddler in his arms make some ungodly sound and the next thing Rick knows, something wet splashes his arm and neck and his tee shirt is ruined by the contents of Judith's last bottle.

His blue eyes flutter shut as his shoulders sag with the impossible weight of single handedly caring for two sick children. Rick takes a deep, steadying breath and opens his eyes to find Negan making the exact face he wore this morning after he was woken up by the sound of two kids getting violently ill.

Negan is uncharacteristically quiet, his eyes take in the scene and linger on the mess that is now splattered all over Rick's second shirt of the day all before he so eloquently opens his mouth, "Ew."

Rick's scowl is only half as intense as it usually is. He's too exhausted that his frustration is released in nothing more that a huff before he kicks the door shut in Negan's face.

"Yeah," he murmurs to himself as he turns, holding Judith at arms length. She coos innocently at him, as if she didn't just projectile vomit inches from his face a second ago, "Ew."

[wiypt-writes]

Riding On

CH26- In Sickness And In Health

Summary: A bug hits the Adler household, and it isn’t pretty.

Warnings: Bad language, talks of puke and vomit (grim!)

Pairing: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Word Count- 5.1k ish

Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 25

Fliss woke in the middle of the night to Thor gently scratching at the bedroom door, little whines seeping from his mouth. She sat still, her ears craning for what had gotten him so agitated and then she heard soft crying from across the hall. She knew from the fact it wasn’t coming over the baby monitor it wasn’t Alex, which left one other person.

“Frank...” she nudged him with her elbow gently in his ribs, where he lay in his preferred sleeping position, on his stomach, arms folded under his pillow. “Babe, Mary’s crying.”

He grumbled something before his nose screwed up and he gave a sleepy questioning hum as Fliss flicked on the lamp and rose from the bed, locating her sleep wear which had been discarded the night before as they’d gotten a little frisky. He groaned again, blinking against the light before his sleepy brain suddenly registered what was going on and he sat up, frowning.

The door to their room opened as Fliss headed across the landing and Frank jumped out of bed, pulling on a pair of sweats that were discarded over the back of the chair by the vanity and followed. As soon as Fliss opened the door to Mary’s room the smell of vomit hit his nostrils and he sighed, instantly realising what was going on.

“Hey, hey...” Fliss stood on the bottom rung of the steps which led up to Mary’s bed, reaching over to brush her hair which was spattered with puke off her face. “Sweetheart, it’s ok.”

“I couldn’t get to the bathroom in time...” Mary sobbed. “I just woke up and...”

“Stack, calm down.” Frank soothed as he moved behind Fliss. “Does your tummy hurt?”

“Yeah.” She nodded and then without warning she pushed Fliss away, retched, and spewed up once more all over her bedspread, her sobbing growing louder. Frank grimaced, and in front of him Fliss gave a little, sudden half retch of her own- he knew she hated dealing with puke but it was testament to her mom instincts as she swallowed and reached out, rubbing Mary’s back.

“Okay, honey. Let’s get you cleaned up. Can you stand in the shower or do you want me to run you a bath?”

“Bath.” Mary stammered, retching again and Fliss nodded, turning to Frank. “I’ll go sort it, can you help her down?”

“Sure.” Frank nodded as Fliss dodged round him, heading to the bathroom.

“I’m sorry.” Mary whispered.

“What for?” Frank frowned.

“For barfing in my bed.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Frank soothed her. “Have I ever been mad at you for being sick?”

“Only when I ate all those marshmallows.”

“That was different, I told you to stop stuffing them into your mouth and you didn’t.” Frank chuckled, the back of his hand pressing to Mary’s forehead. She felt clammy, her cheeks tinged with pink. “You can’t help it if you’re ill, sweetheart.”

“But the bedcover is new.”

“Mary, it doesn’t matter.” He repeated. “It’ll wash. I’m more worried about you. Now come on, let’s get you in the bath okay?”

With a little clever manoeuvring, Frank helped Mary down from her bunk and she made her way slowly into the bathroom where Fliss as busy drawing her a bath.

“Okay, you want me to stay with you or you wanna be on your own?” Fliss asked Mary as she slumped ok the close toilet seat.

“Can you stay?”

“Sure.” Fliss smiled.

“I’ll go strip the bed and toss it all in the machine.” Frank gently ran his hand over the back of Mary’s head as Fliss handed her a glass of water. “You can get in with us for the rest of the night.”

Mary drained the glass and nodded, wiping her eyes. Frank straightened up and Fliss gave him a little smile before he turned and headed out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Half an hour or so later Mary was in a fresh set of pyjamas, had taken a dose of medicine and was settled in their bed. After an initial bit of another flap about her not wanting to be in the middle in case she needed to get out, Frank had assured her that if she moved he would wake and she was now settled in between him and Fliss, curled on her side and snuggled into his chest, her head tucked under his chin. His large arms cuddled her close, his left hand gently rubbing at her back as he gave Fliss a tired smile as she flicked off the light and settled down beside them having checked on Alex to make sure the noise hadn’t disturbed him.

“I’ll stay home with her.” He whispered as Fliss leaned over and pressed a kiss to the back of Mary’s head before she moved and placed a soft one on Frank’s mouth. “It’s easier for me to rearrange stuff than you, I can work here.”

“I can rearrange some stuff if needs be but, well, she’s always a daddy’s girl when she’s sick.” Fliss yawned.

Frank chuckled a little as he too gave a soft yawn. “Yeah, and I’d be lying if I said I ever wanted that to change.”

****

Mary was off colour for just over two days. Just as Fliss had stated, she’d been clingy to Frank, laying on the sofa by his side or on his knee, her head resting on his lap whilst she slept. Thankfully, by the time the third day rolled around she was back almost to her usual self although Frank insisted she stay home from summer camp for the rest of the week. The bad news was, however, the bug was seemed to have caught him now. He felt funny on the Monday morning and as he drove into work he had to pull his truck over so he could puke out of the door. With a groan he grabbed the bottle of water out of the holder and with a shaky hand drained half in one go before he pulled a u-turn and headed home. Fliss saw his truck arrive back onto their driveway and came into the house to find him rushing into the bathroom, throwing up violently into the toilet. With a sigh she gently rubbed his back and sent him to bed, fetching him some water and kissing his head, telling him to rest up. “Where’s dad?” Mary asked as she walked into her kitchen later that evening, having been picked up by Bill following a call from Fliss earlier that afternoon. “In bed, he’s caught your bug.” Fliss sighed. “Poor bugger.” Bill grimaced. “Yeah, he’s not well.” Fliss wrinkled her nose. “Just a case of it working through his system.” She smiled at Alex as she took him from her dad. “They behaved?” “Good as gold.” Bill smiled as Alex gave his momma a huge grin as she kissed his cheek. “Do you want us to pick them up again tomorrow evening?” “Would you?” Fliss sighed. “Frank won’t be up to it and I’ve got lessons until six.” “Sure, Mary can stay if she likes. We’ve got the twins so...” “Oh please Mom, can I?” Mary grinned and Fliss shrugged. “Sure, if you want.” “Yesss.” Mary gave Bill a hi-five before she excused herself and headed into her den. Bill had a cup of tea before he headed back home and Fliss got Alex ready for bed. Just as she was carrying him out of the nursery for his night bottle,  Frank emerged from their bedroom. He was pale, and looked absolutely drained. “Hey, how you feeling?” Fliss gave him a sympathetic smile and he shook his head, giving a little sigh. “Like I’ve been hit by a bus.” He grumbled as Alex gave a noise of excitement at seeing his dad. “Hey, buddy.” Frank gave him a smile and waggled his fingers, chuckling a little as the baby mimicked his actions. “Frankie, go back to bed.” Fliss coaxed and he sighed. “I can’t sleep, been awake for the last hour.” “You been sick again?” “Not yet. Although my stomach is killing me.” “Can you face anything to eat?” Frank shook his head. “Just need to get some water.” “I’ll get it, just go lie down and watch some TV or something.” “Is Mary okay?” He completely ignored her instructions and Fliss shot him a look. “Stop ignoring me. She’s fine. I’ll send her up to say hi, now go. Go on.” “Yes, Mom.” Frank grumbled before he turned and headed back into their room. As Fliss headed down the stairs she heard the vague sounds of him retching into the toilet in the en-suite. ***** The next morning, Fliss found herself with a sick fiancée and a sick eleven month old as Alex promptly woke her up at five am screaming, and proceeded to projectile vomit all over her as she lifted him out of his vomit spattered crib. With a sigh, she soothed him gently before she carried him into the main bathroom so as not to disturb Frank and stripped them both off, stepping into the shower with him in her arms to clean them both off. Being an expert at doing things one handed now thanks to usually having him on her hip, she managed to wash her hair and his before she stepped out, wrapped him in a little towel. She shrugged on her robe and carried him out of the room, dressing him in a clean romper before she wandered downstairs to make herself some breakfast. As soon as it was an acceptable hour, she called Joanne to have her cancel her lessons for the day before she then called her mum who assured her that her or Bill would collect Mary and drop her at summer camp so she didn’t have to. It was a little after ten when Frank headed downstairs to find Fliss gently rocking Alex to and fro as he griped in her arms, his little hands curled round the material of her t-shirt, his cheeks red as he rest one against her shoulder. “Oh he’s not got it as well?” Frank sighed and Fliss nodded. “Yup, I got a wonderful five am wake up call.” “Oh, Honey, I’m sorry.” “It’s not your fault.” She looked at him, giving him a soft smile. “How you feeling today?” “A little better, not great but...” Frank shrugged as he ran a hand over Alex’s head. “Is he really bad?” Fliss wrinkled her nose. “He’s not been sick for an hour or so now but his diapers are grim.” She pulled a face. “I’m just worried about him not eating or drinking and getting dehydrated.” “Just offer him something plain to eat.” Frank looked at her, rubbing her arm. “Maybe some rye crackers or those little animal ones he likes and some diluted apple juice. If he’s like Mary then this will pass in a couple of days, don’t worry about it, it’s not like he’s a tiny baby now.” “Hmmm. Maybe I should ask Mum what I should do, I mean she’s done this before and...” At that Frank paused, his hand dropping to his side as he felt his temper flare. “Yeah, because it’s not like I have or anything is it, Fliss?” He knew he shouldn’t have said it, but he was tired, wasn’t feeling too great himself and her lack of faith in him had riled him to the point he’d blurted it out without thinking. And he immediately knew he’d pushed the wrong button when she stilled and turned to him, her eyes blazing. “You’re such a dick!” “I’m a dick?” He snapped back. “Jesus, you constantly second guess everything I suggest. I’ve done this before and Mary turned out just fine.” “I don’t second guess everything.” “You know what, just do what you want. I can’t have this argument now, I feel like crap. Maybe you should check with your mom what I should eat as well while you’re at it.” “Fuck off, Frank.” Fliss spat at him as she adjusted Alex in her arms and stormed out of the room, her feet heavy on the stairs as she made her way up them, Alex’s little cries growing quieter as she went before they died out completely as she shut the door to his nursery. With a groan Frank grabbed a bottle of water and followed her up the stairs where he headed back into the bedroom, climbed into bed and pulled the covers over his head. **** Thor alerted Fliss to someone’s presence and her head turned to see her mum enter through the back door holding a canvas shopping bag.

“Mum?”

“Hey love, you sounded a little stressed on the phone so I thought I’d swing by.” She smiled. “How is he?”

“Who, Alex or the asshole upstairs?” Fliss rolled her eyes and Verity arched her brow.

“You two had an argument? I thought Frank was ill?”

“He is. Suffering from asshole-itis.”

“Okay.” Verity sighed as she placed the bag on the counter in the kitchen. “Well, I made you a lasagne and some chicken soup for when Frank feels like eating. Probably better on his stomach than a heap of meat and cheese.”

“Thanks.” Fliss gave her mum a smile as she stood up and headed over to the kitchen area of the large family room, checking on Alex who was sleeping in the pack and play in the corner of the room.

“Did he eat his crackers?”

“A few.” Fliss shrugged. “But he drank most of his apple juice and keeping him hydrated is the most important thing, right?”

"He’s not a new-born now, Fliss.” Verity smiled. “And this isn’t the first time he’s been off colour.”

“No, but it’s the first time he’s been puking up every hour or so.”

“Yes, but as long as he keeps drinking then there’s no need to worry about it.” Verity looked at her. “If he’s still bad in another twenty-four hours and you’re worried, call the doctor. But Frank was right with what he said. Diluted apple juice will make sure he gets water and a bit of sugar, and if he munches on a few crackers then at least he’s eating something. You could always offer him a piece of banana too. Full of vitamins and the potassium will be good for him, too.” At that Fliss pulled a face and Verity chuckled. “You’ve never liked bananas.”

“Frank and Mary love them as well as him, but the texture makes me want to hurl.”

“You eat avocado.” Verity rolled her eyes and Fliss shrugged as she filled a kettle. There was a moment’s silence as Fliss placed the kettle on to boil and her mum reached for two mugs. “So, you going to tell me why Frank’s an asshole?”

“Oh, just before.” Fliss shrugged, tossing teabags into the teapot. “He accused me of second guessing him when I said I wanted to call you about Alex.”

“Right.” Verity nodded, leaning back against the counter. “And you weren’t?”

“No, of course not.” Fliss looked at her mum and Verity shrugged.

“Okay,” she held her hands up, “but, try and see it from his point of view, sweetheart. He is his dad…”

“I know that…”

“…and he’s done this before. In fact he’s done this before the same amount of times I have.”

At that Fliss paused and took a deep breath as her mum continued.

“You and Steve are both my children, but don’t forget, I didn’t meet Steve until he was five. So my sum total experience of babies was from looking after you, which makes Frank as equally qualified as me, certainly from the six month mark anyway.”

Fliss hesitated, in all honesty she hadn’t thought about it that way. She let out a sigh as her eyes filled with tears and her mum gave her a small smile and gently touched her arm. “Hey, don’t get upset, come here…”

Fliss willingly stepped into her mums arms for a hug, sniffing a little as Verity gently stroked the back of her head. “Being a parent is stressful, and being a first time one is the scariest thing in the world, but I wish I’d had the support from someone like you get from Frank.”

“I know, and he’s great, he’s more than great he’s fantastic, sometimes I just,” Fliss sniffed and shrugged lamely as she pulled back a little, “you’re my mum, that’s all.”

“Yeah I was last time I checked.” Verity smiled and Fliss let out a soft chuckle as she stepped back. “But Frank is your fiancée, and Alex’s dad. I can understand why he got a little frustrated.”

“He’s never snapped at me before when I’ve called you for advice.”

“Yeah, well, he’s not feeling great is he?” Verity reasoned. “He’s most likely tired and a bit cranky and you just got the brunt, unfortunately. Isn’t that the way it works? You’re a snappy bitch with him often enough.”

“I know.” Fliss turned to the kettle. “Least he doesn’t beat me black and blue for it, huh?”

“Don’t.” Verity said sternly and Fliss poured the hot water into the tea pot.

“True though.” She sighed, before she shook her head. “Anyway, enough. What are you doing with the kids tonight?”

“Your Dad's pumping the inflatables up for the pool.” Verity took her tea with a thanks. “Then we’ve stocked up on sausages, burgers and enough soda and sweets to keep them wired for a week.”

“Standard night and Nanna and Granddad’s then.” Fliss smiled and Verity chuckled as the two of them made their way outside to sit in the garden.

“The twins are staying until the weekend.” Verity smiled. “Steve’s taking Sian off for a last little break before your wedding and the baby arrives. If you want to gather some more stuff for Mary, she can stay longer. We were going to take them to the waterpark on Thursday.”

“She’d love that. I’ll check with Frank as we’ve paid for summer camp, but I don’t think he’ll have an issue.”

“Issue with what?”

Both women looked up to see Frank stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes slightly. At the sight of him looking so tired and sick, Fliss felt all her earlier anger ebbing away and she took a deep breath.

“Oh, Mum was just saying, the twins are staying with her and dad until Friday, she suggested Mary might like to as well.”

“You don’t need to check with me.” Frank shook his head, his voice soft. “You’re her mom. If she wants to then, whatever.” Frank shrugged. “Not like we’re going to be doing anything at the moment, is it?”

“How are you feeling?” Verity looked at Frank and he gave a shrug.

“Crap.” He snorted, “How’s Bean?”

“He ate a few crackers and had some apple juice, he just seems tired.” Fliss shrugged.

To his credit, Frank didn’t mention the fact that she’d done exactly what he advised. Instead he nodded. “Good.”

“Do you want anything to eat?” Fliss offered. “Mum brought some chicken soup.”

“No, no offence V but my stomach isn’t quite ready for that.” He grimaced as Verity waved his apology off. “I just came for some air and to grab a drink.”

“Do you want me to make you a honey and ginger tea?” Fliss looked at him. “Might help.”

Frank gave her a soft smile, “sure, thanks.”

She stood up and passed him in the doorway, her hand softly brushing over his arm as she went. Once she’d gone, Frank stepped outside, taking in a breath as he let the sun warm his face. “You sure you don’t mind Mary staying for a few days?”

“Of course not.” Verity shook her head. “I was just saying to Fliss, we’re thinking of taking them all to the water park on Thursday.”

“She’ll love that.” Frank smiled, taking a deep breath as a wave of nausea washed over him.

“As long as it’s not an issue, Fliss said you’d already paid for camp.”

Frank shook his head. “It’s not expensive, plus you have to pay for the full summer up front, regardless. Just easier to make sure she has a place. As long as we tell them she won’t be there for the rest of the week it doesn’t matter.” He took a seat in one of the outside comfy chairs, and ran his hands over his face. “God, this is disgusting.”

Verity chuckled. “Yeah, it seems a pretty nasty bug. Make sure you rest up.”

“I’m bored of lying in bed.” He groaned.

“You’re just like Bill.” Verity looked at him, sternly. “Don’t be a stubborn bastard and rush around until you’re ready.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He gave her a salute and she narrowed her eyes playfully.

“And whilst we’re at it, I’ve spoken to Fliss about her being a snappy little madam.”

“What do you mean?”

“She told me you’d had an argument before, and yes, before you say anything I can see your point but I can also see hers.” She looked at him. “I gave her a gentle reminder that my experience with babies amounts to the same as yours so I’m by no means more qualified but I’m glad she feels she can call me. It’s a support network I didn’t have, nor did you for that matter. And I bet you wish you did.”

Frank took a deep breath. “I know, I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. I was just, well, a little frustrated, that’s all.”

“No, I know, I get it.” Verity assured him. “And so does she. Just maybe try not to be such a cranky little shit.”

At that Frank snorted and their conversation was cut off when Fliss appeared, placing a mug on the table in front of him.

“Thanks.” He smiled as she ran her hand through his hair affectionately. Reaching up, he caught her hand and pressed a soft kiss to the inside of her wrist.

“I’m sorry I snapped before.” He looked at her and she smiled back.

“It’s okay.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I don’t trust you something.”

“I should have pointed it out to you in a better way than I did.” Frank conceded, before his eyes playfully darted to Verity before they flicked back to Fliss’. “I was a cranky little shit.”

Verity chuckled and shook her head as Fliss smiled and moved to take her seat. Frank reached over for his drink and took a small sip, leaning back in his chair, happy to be outside the confines of the bedroom for a few moments, until his stomach gave a violent lurch, reminding him exactly why he hadn’t strayed far from the bathroom.

With a groan, he jumped up, almost falling over Thor in his haste and knowing full well he wasn’t going to make it to the toilet, he turned and violently spewed into the kitchen sink.

“Well,” Fliss sighed, standing up to go and help him out, “at least he’ll be bringing up nothing but water.” She pulled a face. “Don’t fancy fishing chunks out of the plug hole.”

*****

Frank woke early the next morning, having slept so much over the last forty-eight hours and he was pleased to report he was feeling much better. It was still quite dark outside and he took care as he climbed out of bed not to make too much noises. He padded over to the spare room, Fliss having chosen to sleep in there along with Alex in the travel crib so as not to disturb him too much, and was happy to see the pair of them fast asleep when he poked his head through the door. Thor eyed him a little before he stood up, stretching and wandered over, yawning.

“Wanna go out, pal?” Frank reached out and scratched the large dog behind his ear as his tail wagged lazily, his mouth opening in a wide yawn. “Okay, come on.”

It was an hour or so later he heard Fliss shout down the stairs. It was a frantic, broken yell of his name and in a flash he sprinted up onto the landing in time to see her bursting into the bathroom where she emptied her stomach into the toilet.

“Oh, baby.” He sighed, walking towards her but she waved him away.

“Alex,” she spluttered, before she turned and puked again and Frank instantly understood. Heading into the spare room, he picked up the baby who had himself thrown up, but was surprisingly cheerful all things considered. There were no tears, no fuss, just a huge grin for his daddy as he sat peering up at him.

“Not quite sure what you find so amusing.” Frank arched his eyebrow and swept the baby up, turning him so that the front of his vomit spattered romper was facing outwards, one large arm supporting his butt.  He made his way back onto the landing to see Fliss now emerging, her face flushed and her eyes heavy.

“Go back to bed.” Frank nodded to their room, before he dropped a kiss to her forehead. “I got this.”

Without so much as a word of protest she headed into their bedroom, Thor following, and she closed the door behind her. Twenty minutes later, Alex was cleaned up and sat in his high chair next to Frank who was perched on a stool at the island, both of them munching on a banana. Alex’s appetite was back with gusto, but Frank was wary of overloading the tot’s stomach (and his own for that matter) so soon following their illness, so he had cut Alex’s banana into smaller pieces than normal in an attempt it would fool him into thinking he had eaten more. No such luck. As he finished the last piece he examined his now empty bowl and then looked at Frank, making a questioning noise.

“No more buddy, not yet.” Frank shook his head, chuckling as Alex reached for the one Frank had in his hand. “This is mine.” At that, Alex frowned and let out a loud noise of protest. Frank merely looked back at him again. “Complain all you want, it won’t get you anywhere.”

Once their breakfast was done, he carried him over to the play mat, watching him carefully as he entertained himself, crawling across the rug to get to some of his brightly coloured blocks. Frank played with him for a little while before he called both work and Joanne explaining the situation and that neither he nor Fliss would be in work that day. Once that was sorted, he then decided to take Alex out for some air into the garden, selecting a spot in the shade by the pool. By the time lunch time rolled around, neither of them had thrown up again, but there was no sign of Fliss. Frank set Alex down for a nap in his room, and headed over to check on her. She peered up at him from where she was led in bed, something playing on the TV and she gave him a weak smile.

“Hey.” He dropped onto the bed by her side, his hand running through her hair. “You need anything?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Is Bean okay?”

“He’s fine. He’s had a banana and some crackers for breakfast and a little more for lunch. So far so good, it hasn’t come back up.”

“Course I would have to get it too.” She grumbled and Frank chuckled, leaning over to kiss her forehead.

“Well, were you really expecting anything else?” He smiled and she rolled her eyes.

“No, suppose not.” She shifted and stretched, grimacing a little. “Fuck, my back is starting to go funny.”

“Lying down too much?” He asked gently, knowing she struggled with that sometimes if she was on it for too long, a consequence of her accident all those years ago.

“Yeah, that and I think I pulled it puking.”

“Well, how about I draw you a bath and then you can come downstairs and rest on the couch?” He offered, his hand cupping her cheek. “I got plenty of cuddles and sympathy in me, especially now I know I’ve had it and therefore immune.”

“Okay.”  She nodded.

It was little under half an hour later when Fliss made her way downstairs, dressed in a pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt, her hair pulled back into a messy pony tail. Frank gave her a small smile and lifted his arm as she sat down next to him. He pressed a kiss to her temple as she cuddled up to him.

“You need anything?” Frank asked her softly and she shook her head, adjusting herself so she was comfy, snuggling into him a little further. Only it didn’t last long. Approximately five minutes later she gave a little whimper and shot up from the couch, running for the bathroom. Frank let out a sigh as he stood up and followed her, his large hand rubbing at her back as he knelt beside her whilst she puked into the downstairs toilet.

“Fuck this shit.” She groaned as she sat back, her face flushed, cheeks streaked with tears. “I don’t wanna be ill. I hate you.”

“Me?” Frank chuckled.

“Yes, you. You gave this to me.”

“Well, actually, I think I gave it to Alex. Who likely gave it to you.”

“Exactly, you infected him and he infected me.”

“If we’re playing the blame game, then Mary is totally ‘Patient Zero’.”

Fliss looked at him, swallowing, before she moved him out of the way and retched again, only this time nothing much came up on account of her stomach being empty.

“I need water.” She mumbled.

“Okay, you want me to fetch you some here or are you done?”

“I’m done, for the time being. I think.” She sighed and Frank stood, pulling her to her feet. He waited whilst she splashed cold water on her face and rinsed her mouth out before he gently scooped his arm round her as she slowly walked into the hallway, stumbling a little as she went. Not wanting her to fall and add a concussion to the mix, Frank easily swept her up into his arms, bridal style and she groaned.

“I’m not dying.”

“Well, you looked you were going to fall so, suck it up, Buttercup.” He shrugged, depositing her back on the couch before he made his way to the fridge. He came back with a bottle of water and unscrewed the lid before passing it to her. She took a large gulp, her face pale before she gave an exhausted sigh, the back of her forearm wiping at her forehead.

“Is it warm in here?” She frowned and Frank shook his head.

“The Air-Con is at normal temp. You’re running a slight fever, same as us.”

“Fantastic.” Fliss groaned, flopping down and stretching out beside him, laying her head in his lap.

 “Well in my eyes you’ve always been hot.” Frank joked lamely, as his fingers gently ran down her neck and back, the same way she’d comforted him the previous day. She shook her head, scoffing at his lame joke.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Calling it how I see it, Lissy.” He chuckled, his hand gently brushing down the side of her face. “Try and get some rest, Sweetheart. You’ll feel better when you’ve slept, I promise.”

They sat in silence, eyes trained on the TV and when Alex woke a short while later, Frank glanced down to see Fliss had fallen asleep. Reaching for a pillow he gently moved her head, propping it up on the cushion, a soft sigh escaping him. She’d spent pretty much the entire last week taking care of them, it was certainly time to repay the favour.

“You gonna be quiet so you don’t disturb Momma?” He spoke in a hushed voice to Alex once he’d changed his diaper and carried him back downstairs. Alex made a little noise in response, a garble of sounds that sounded a little like 'Mama' when Frank thought about it. He had no doubt in his mind that the baby would be speaking sooner rather than later.

“Yeah, Mama.” Frank nodded as he opened the door to the family room. Fliss was still fast asleep and thankfully, Alex seemed content once he’d seen her to be distracted by Fred, who sauntered over towards him as he sat on the rug, his tail swishing in Alex’s face making him laugh as he went to grab it. Fred scooted off and Frank spoke, his voice low.

“Alex, no. We don’t pull tails.”

Alex looked at him before he gave a giggle and spun quickly onto all fours and shot after the animal as fast as he could crawl.  With a roll of his eyes, Frank headed after him and grabbed the back of his t-shirt, lifting him up. Alex’s cackles rang around the room and despite himself, Frank chuckled as well as he spun the baby to face him, holding him at arm’s length.

“You’re a menace, you know that?” He arched his eyebrow as he brought him back down to press a kiss to his cheek, before he extended his arms again, once more bringing him back towards him, more giggles bursting from Alex’s mouth as he continued to repeat the playful motion. “Cute, but a total menace.”

When Frank held Alex above him for a fourth time, it wasn’t a giggle that burst from the tot’s mouth. It was a steady stream of banana and rye barf which hit Frank straight in the face.

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.” Frank grimaced, wiping his face on his shoulder, before he turned to look at Alex who grinned at him. “Thanks a lot, pal.”

**** Chapter 27

[jq37]

The Report Card – Fantasy High: The Seven Ep 6

Bitches Be Shopping

What is up y’all. A little late but let’s jump in with episode six of The Seven where our girls have just received a LOT of information, Sam most of all who got put into a little vision coma that she’s just now waking up from.

She explains the vision to her friends (as she interprets it, the other Eidolons didn’t die, just became part of the natural forces of the world) and then the bear that Penny made on a whim last episode (who is Russian, named Koda, and somehow a trained circus bear) gets into a fight with Katja with their friends buffing the two to make things more interesting because these are still idiot teens, life or death situation or no. Yelle decides to be the adult and tells them to knock it off and get back on mission.

That means Katja needs to call her dad since he’s knows the guy who’s the best lead to getting to TK ( Talcidimir Tallbreeze who I’ll call Tal). She actually manages to get her dad this time who is inside a giant snake on his hell mission. Katja asks what he knows about TK and he says she’s a sorcerer but also has a spell book so maybe she’s multiclassed. Sam and Ant desperately want to know if they boned and Katja absolutely is not interested in that knowledge. Yelle decides to just ask which makes her dad a little annoyed since he’s kind of in the middle of something (literally) and that annoys Ant, Ost, and Sam who--respectively, accuse him of gaslighting Kat, cast Command on him, and cast Bane on him to aid the Command spell. 

Mr. Cleaver fails the save and Ost commands him to tell Katja the truth. He admits that he did hook up with TK and he regrets it (note: it wasn’t like he cheated. It was just a casual hookup that wasn’t fulfilling it seems). Ost demands he apologize for not being there for Kat and Sam berates him for being at the top of the world and not lifting up his daughter too. For his part, Kat’s dad seems genuinely apologetic and promises to do better. 

“You don’t need to be the best father, you just need to be there,” Katja says, making her dad break down crying. 

Yelle, who has no daddy issues, is a bit less aggro and says that everyone makes mistakes and he can start making it up right now by helping with the Tal situation. She also gives them the tip that a cold spell will probably get them out of the snake lickety split.  She is on the money with the snake tip and Mr. Cleaver gets them all invites to a masquerade ball Tal is hosting. It’s being held on the Rumbosa which is this city-sized leisure ship. Mr. Cleaver says he’ll be back as soon as he can and, in the meantime, she should take care of her friends, “even the first 2 that were terrifying to me.”

The girls give Katja the axe they took as a birthday present (it was apparently her birthday the day before which Rekha just decided and Ost/Izzy refuses to accept without a fight because she *knows* Kat’s bday) which is identified as the Axe of Sundering (it can shatter objects, people, and sometimes concepts like halving movement). The two unnamed potions Yelle found are also ID’d as a Potion of Fly and a Potion of Gaseous Form. She distributes the Heath Potions to people without heals. Ant’s new arrows bypass some resistances and let her treat whatever she hits with the first one like it’s her favored enemy. 

According to their invites, the ship they need is docking in the city of Gravalvia soon (a very old city in the Baronies) so they need to figure out a plan. They have some downtime, during which:

Zelda tries to hype up the team.

Zelda tries to see if Ost is OK wrt dad stuff and Ost has a Full Breakdown after badly pretending she’s fine. 

While Zelda, Ost, and Penny are being Emotional and Sam is trying to literally cool them down with her powers, Ant and Yelle keep watch and experience emotional stability as the Adults Of The Party 

Anyway, after a night of rest, they head to the golden city of Gravalvia which is this very cool, very pretty city with mosaics and fountains and I assume columns. They get there and there’s a dramatic fight happening in the square which is halted when one of the fighters realizes that the country he’s fighting for doesn’t exist anymore. And now, it’s time for what we’ve all been waiting for. Shopping Montage! Let’s go girl by girl.

Katja and Ost

Kat asks for help from Ost with getting fancy for this gala since she’s never really done anything dressy before (and she had no mom to help--Kaaaat) and Ost is happy to oblige, dressing them both like “Jersey trash”. Kat, of course, still wears her Khakis underneath.

Antiope

Ant decides to get a vibe for what people here wear and picks something that will blend in but be forgettable so she can be stealthy. Classy blue dress and mask.

Penny

Penny...OK, I absolutely cannot describe what happens here in any way that will do justice to the scene. I am going to tell you what matters to the plot. You have to watch this yourself if you want to see the entire table have a collective breakdown. 

While looking for a costume, Penny runs into a halfling who is a member of the Society of Shadows--Laertes. He wants to know why she hasn’t responded to their invitation yet. She says she’s really eager to join, she just wasn’t sure how to respond (and also, she’s kind of in the middle of something). He says she can join by just messaging back and then her loved ones just have to sign waivers to have their memories wiped of her and she’s good to go. Say what now? asks Penny. She didn’t realize this was like a full Men in Black situation. 

He says it’s ultimately her decision and leaves.

Of course, I left out the parts where he ate a handful of Candy Heart’s remains, became violently ill, almost projectile vomited into Penny’s mouth, and she tried to kiss him despite him being a full adult. It’s A Lot, ok?

Also, we don’t find out until later but Penny picks a sexy duck costume for reasons that make more sense if you watch the scene but not *much* more sense. She also burns one of the healing potions on this dude as he is bar

Danielle

Danielle tries to get some info on the guests at the party and gets the names Lawrence LaDuc, Princess Autumn, and Duston who is the playboy cousin of Tal. She also hears some dude saying some colonize and plunder the earth BS and casts Heat Metal on him, fully mercing the dude. Ice cold. 

She tries to play it off like it’s the Curse of the Forest and when that doesn’t work and people start coming for her, she wildshapes into a dragon wyrmling and starts roasting people, killing 1 and dropping 2 to zero. 

Unfortunately, one of her party members is a known dragon hater and uses her new arrows to snipe her right out of the sky. Ant is horrified once she realizes what she’s done but Yelle says it’s all good. It’s NOT all good, says Ant, I STABBED YOU. You’re allowed to be mad! Yelle says she’s just really good at compartmentalizing but what Ant’s getting here is that Yelle doesn’t really believe that her feelings matter which echo the fears of her moms. 

Sam

Sam uses a combination of Mantle of Inspiration, glamour magic, performance, and good old flirting to get herself some killer clothes and also start a spontaneous musical number Giselle style.  

Brennan says she looks resplendent and, honestly, when does she not?

They reconvene, Zelda in a classic hoop skirt. Yelle realizes she never got a costume and just whips out a Met Gala level, autumn themed, Queen Mab-esque costume with Druidcraft which she could have done this whole time so I guess that’s why she was cool spending her shopping time getting gossip and playing Poison Ivy. 

They get to the ship and the way this works, everyone has to make an entrance and the really rich people (including Tal) are on a dais up top watching everyone come in. They all have to give fake names for the night since it’s a masquerade and they have to do Performance or Persuasion checks to see how impressive they look going in. 

Before they go in, they plan a little. Penny wants to look for TK. Sam wants to find Dunston. Ost wants to talk to the bouncers. Yelle wants to see if there are plants she can manipulate (there are btw) and for any exits. 

A quick rundown of how these all go:

Katja aka Mere (which means both mom and horse): 16 

Ant aka Midnight Huntress: 18 

Penny aka Penny Duckstone: 13

Zelda aka Madame Goodparty: 2 (Poor Zelda)

Sam aka Songbird: 22 (but she takes a hit to entrance save Zelda from totally flaming out)

Ost aka Stanley Gucci: 13

And Danielle, who never hogs the spotlight and is embarrassed to admit that maybe she does want to be the center of attention for once in her life with a Natural 20, gets a 29, absolutely bringing down the house as Empress Anima. As she walks forward she feels a voice say to her, “You got this. I love the name. You wear it well.”

Tal seems very impressed by her and a lady in a rabbit mask (Coeliabranca who I’ll call Coel if she comes up more) comes down to bring her up to the top with the high rollers. As she leaves, Sam casts Fly on her, just in case and holds the Concentration. 

Ost and Kat go talk to the bouncers and Kat decides to pretend to be her mom to get access to the area Yelle is. She rolls low and is told, “Hey, aren’t you already up there?” Kat is like, fuck and Ost saves her by using her charm earrings to get an entourage of guards who will let them through and do what she says. Once up there, Kat doesn’t see her mom which I can imagine she has mixed feelings about. 

Sam finds Dunston who is talking about Fantasy Bitcoin and seems like a real “Step on me mommy” type you know? Like, I feel like he’s into findom. Anyway, Sam charms him and his hangers on and learns about a procedure called a Phlebectomy that involves something going into their nose and then they feel better. Sam is rightfully horrified because, as I said, she is Most Likely To Survive A Horror Movie and can sense BS when she sees is. It’s apparently all the rage with the rich people here which is, como de dice, concerning seeing as they’re surrounded by them but we’ll get to that. Sam takes advantage of Dunston’s proclivities and gets him alone, knocks him out, steals him clothes, and pretends to be him (a *very* good scene by Sephie). 

Penny sees a gnome gnome boy (Lysander Higgins) shining shoes and finds out from him that there is a copper earth genasi woman here. In a very Cinderella move, she asks what shoes she was wearing. Then, she makes out with him which like, sure. At least it’s not a grown adult man this time. Before she gets her kisses in, she does tell the group what she learned. 

Up with the rich people, Yelle is introduced to Tal’s friend who is into Eidolons because of the name she chose. Between the shoes and her knowledge, they confirm that it’s TK! Yelle asks what she knows about Eidolons and she says that 7 is a very powerful number.

We cut to Ant who is patrolling the room as the sun sets and she suddenly hears a little beeping. It’s coming from a small crystal that was in Preston’s shirt (which she still has on her because???). Guests start dripping goo from their noses and transforming into monsters. Ant realizes that some kind of spell is happening triggered by midnight and this beeping. Hope these costumes are battle ready cause it’s fight time baybee!

Superlatives 

Danielle: Most Likely to Be on The News for Murdering Fantasy Jeff Bezos

I cannot imagine what was running through Yelle’s head when she decided that, having just rolled into a foreign country, her next move was to start using lethal force on anti-environmentalist colonizing capitalists. Like, she’s not *wrong* per se but she is wild--in all senses of the word.  

Random Thoughts

Kat keeps saying yesterday was her birthday which Ost/Izzy (and the rest of the group to a less vocal degree) are simply not having because maybe her dad would forget her birthday but her girls absolutely would not.

“You’re great because you stayed,” is the other killshot Kat line to her dad.

At a certain point Sam says, “This is so unhealthy,” to I think Yelle and like, if SAM is telling you your coping mechanisms are unhealthy, get thee to therapy.

OK, so someone, presumably Anima’s spirit, talks to Yelle as she makes her grand entrance which seems like info they should get to Talura ASAP, right? Cause that’s evidence they’re not dead-dead, just changed in form. But also Anima, girl. Don’t talk to Yelle. Talk to your rampaging sister!

"That's my secret, I stay in initiative."

Just a process note, notes are taken for the next ep and I am working on getting that recap up ASAP. As a battle ep, it will be in the abbreviated style that I did for last battle ep. 

In this episode, Penny rolls a Nat 1 (which she rerolls) and one of Brennan’s NPCs rolls a Nat 1. Ant rolls 2 Nat 20s, Yelle rolls 1, and Brennan says that one of his NPCs gets a 20 which sweeps him entirely into Sam’s dance number. 

[ladyfawkes]

Eugene Appreciation Week | Day 6: Protect and Sacrifice

Desiderium by @Ladyfawkes and @trekkiehood

Current Chapter 10: Never Surrender

Current word count: 18868

Rated T for graphic descriptions of violence, physical torment, events during a POW setting

Chapter Summary: For the first time since being attacked and abducted, Eugene wakes up.

Chapter 10: Never Surrender

The first time Eugene awoke, he had been turned on his side. Someone had placed the tapered part of a large syringe in his mouth. He gagged on the warm stream of saltwater being actively injected and immediately began vomiting, which in turn yanked and pulled and twisted up all of the severed and injured muscles and tissues just below and to the right of his stomach. It felt as if his guts were on fire and actively trying to push themselves out of the wounds that cursed sword had given him. He tried to bring his arms down to fold them around his wound in front but he’d found his wrists were tightly bound with ropes instead.

“It huuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrts,” he howled mournfully, in earshot of whomever was near. Or at least he would’ve howled, had his cry not cut out halfway through. Only then did he realize how stupid he was to have used his voice. Instantly, he became so drained he started shaking. For he not only unwittingly revealed this weakness to his enemy, the action induced Eugene to use the most injured, raw parts of himself. His reaction, however, had at least been visceral, instinctive, and utterly involuntary; he had no control over it. However, if Eugene thought he’d felt nausea and pain before, that was almost nothing compared to how he’d felt in the here and now.

After Eugene had fallen unconscious, he’d clearly and repeatedly aspirated what little stomach contents he possessed into his lungs and sinuses. A pained groan escaped him regardless; His raw throat and sinuses pulsed with a dull throb in the back of his head every time he tried drawing a breath.

“Believe it or not, I am trying to help,” said a tiny voice beside him. “Sometimes, though, it’s gotta get worse before it can feel better,” continued the voice. Gradually, Eugene’s top half was raised at an angle. The old cloth beneath him soaked with blood and vomit was removed and replaced; the fresh one was folded over several times and placed underneath his nose, mouth, chin, and neck. He was still on his side but was given a bolster to put under his ear and top half of his head as further support at this new elevated angle. His shaking slowed slightly. However, in the back of his mind, Eugene still recalled how precarious was his position. Therefore he could not bring himself to trust this mystery medical person. The captain was still bound at the wrists and ankles, after all. He assumed his boots were long gone. There was no way they’d leave footwear accessible for a prisoner -- especially not one they’d have no intention of ever releasing.

Rather than finding any comfort in what had just been said or done by this funny-voiced person, Eugene stiffened as the syringe wielder injected even more saltwater into each nostril. Though Eugene still choked, coughed, and gagged very violently, the entry-and-exit wounds through his midsection were simultaneously given moderate compression from either side until he’d cleared out the last of the salt water. The compression action alone had diminished his pain, nausea, and the nasty sensation that his guts were spilling out by about 30%. And he didn’t throw up again either. For the time being.

“I would cut your bindings, as they’re so useless and even cumbersome,” mumbled the voice, “but Regis would have us both hanged immediately….” Though Eugene struggled valiantly and tried to become an active information-gatherer like his training demanded, nothing proved to him that he was too far out of his element more than the traumas of this particular interaction. Even his own weakness shocked him. Though the name “Regis” had instantaneously provoked distinct emotions from within.

The mystery person again mopped up Eugene’s face from the deluge of saltwater. “I know that was awful,” commiserated the individual, “but I’m betting your throat and sinuses are no longer killing you. That it’s much less painful to breathe, at least from your neck up?”

Eugene said nothing….and only scowled until he did gingerly test breathing…. and it was indeed far easier and less painful now that the aspirated stomach acid had been cleared away. Buuuuuut he had this permanent stitch now, this ache below his right lung….Eugene seriously wondered whether he would ever breathe deeply again.

“Well, that’s all right, playin’ possum,” said the voice. Can’t say as I blame you, nosiree, captain in the enemy camp and all….” and the person bustled about, chattering aloud to Eugene but mostly to himself. “Oh, and my name is Clarence, my designation here is ‘apothecary’, although my duties compass a great deal more.” Was it just Eugene, or did ‘Clarence’ sound a little bitter? Could this be a rift Eugene could press to his advantage? “This possum skill is good,” the Clarence person rejoined, “because the more ill and unconscious you are, the more put-off Regis will be…..I know since he already walked away once due to being so disgusted by the state of you. You were supposed to have been brought whole and unharmed….and Javeen, Regis’s 2nd, truly learned to regret his actions.”

Eugene’s shivering persisted and worsened although it was clearly a warm day outside. He had no earthly idea how much time had passed since he was first abducted nor how long it had been that he’d worn anything from the waist up due to being stripped down by...Javeen, was it? He guesstimated it had been at least two days since he’d eaten or drank anything...but it felt more like 6 or 7 days because of his injuries. As an orphan, Eugene knew well the ravages of starvation. He’d faced it many times as a child and youth and young adult. And this was….not like that. At all. It was infinitely worse.

Though this small apothecary minding Eugene clearly couldn’t match him in size, he removed and shared his tunic nonetheless. Or at least he attempted to share. “I’ve got on several layers,” mumbled the little man….

“Curse it,” the apothecary finished, as he realized Eugene couldn’t possibly be dressed in normal clothing while still bound at the wrists. And a few seconds later, very abruptly, Eugene’s wrists were blissfully cut free of the ropes that had bound him.

In another wholly involuntary action, Eugene automatically turned from his side to his back, his arms fully separating so his chest could expand and he could breathe in the air his oxygen-deprived body so desperately needed.

The apothecary seemed to have anticipated his needs and again gave Eugene compression so as to minimize the sensation his guts were falling out as he greedily sucked in more and more shuddering lungfuls of air. “Oh deary dear, no wonder that was so difficult for you,” the little apothecary fretted. “Broad chests and large arms do not do well for one’s lung capacity when they’re all mashed together. I can’t imagine Adonais himself could handle his wrists being bound in such a way….”

Breathing in as if it were going out of style was exquisitely painful but this pain was also infinitely worth it. Then Eugene coughed and….it was chunky style, i.e. some of the leftover goodies the syringe hadn’t been able to remove earlier. He turned his head to the side and spat it out. “Good!” said the apothecary. “That’s even better than you getting more air. We need you to cough up all of that junk. And breathe as deep as you can, at all times, even when it hurts.”

Unexpectedly Clarence seized Eugene’s hand and placed it around the cushion he’d been using. “Anytime you need to sneeze, cough, or what-have-you, press the cushion against your midsection. It will help a little. Regis’ll just have to hang me then, he can’t very well have me heal you if you’re gonna go off and die of aspiration pneumonia, nosiree…..”

Heal me in order to hurt me, ugh, thought Eugene. Talk about mixed signals. Now that he was laying on his back, Eugene’s head near the base of his skull started throbbing with the renewed pressure. In spite of himself, Eugene reached up with his left hand and felt the back of his scalp.

Clarence continued bustling about. It was registering through Eugene’s pain-haze that this is the same apothecary that had just given him full use of his hands. Even handed him a projectile. Maybe this guy isn’t what he seems? Eugene considered. Nope. NO. Don’t get lulled by a false sense of security. Considering his wounds and the fact his ankles were still bound, Eugene was basically still immobile anyway, even with full use of his hands and arms. Well, almost full use. If he moved his right arm in a certain way, it tugged all the way down to his worst wound and made him see twinkly pain stars in front of his vision. He determined to keep that arm closer toward him at all times to avoid triggering that horrible lightning twinge. And this meant he couldn’t reach down far enough to slip the ropes off his ankles even if he’d tried. Eugene realized the physician knew exactly what he was talking about by deeming the binds “useless”. His prisoner was going nowhere and this little man knew it.

The physician (Eugene had already substituted ‘apothecary’ in his mind) took note of Eugene’s movements. “Ah yes, I see you’ve discovered the other little 'present' Javeen and his men left for you: that nasty goose egg on the back of your head. I advise against making any more sudden movements? I’d hate to see you vomit again.” Fanfriggentastic. Here was yet another thing that explained to Eugene why he was in such rough shape….Javeen’s men had brained him earlier. Although he couldn’t recall when it happened along with why he’d felt so beat-up and bruised all over, everywhere….those things were still a mystery to him.

The physician did his best to dress Eugene in the too-small tunic of his. Again, he apologized -- APOLOGIZED!! -- for it having been all he’d had on-hand. Ill-fitting though it was, Eugene had finally stopped shivering. Once again, Eugene found second thoughts about this strange little man creeping into his consciousness. Next, the physician had grabbed what looked like a Coronian saddle blanket and draped it around Eugene’s shoulders, offering another layer of warmth. It finally caught up to him regarding what that meant; the physician had handily kept him from slipping fully into shock.

He’d also made dang sure that Eugene could breathe as well as could be expected…..by cutting his binds….and whatever that syringe debacle was…..although the process itself was nightmare-ish, it couldn't be denied that everything had worked as intended. Sometimes things have to get worse before they can feel better. Not to mention the man had gone out of his way to ease Eugene’s pain with that cushion compression trick. Already Clarence had engaged in at least two things that were probably directly against protocol by doing just a tiny bit more than the bare minimum.

Clarence steepled his hands and considered Eugene’s positioning. “I’m gonna need better access to that wound on your back,” he said. “Don’t use any of your own power to help me turn you; I’ll do all of the work. Is that clear?”

Eugene shrank a little at such intense scrutiny paired with the direct order….yet said nothing. It was the most demanding Clarence had been thus far. The apothecary sighed shortly, clearly not taking silence for an answer this time.

“I mean it, Mr. Tough Guy. This is one instance where you must be like a living ragdoll and let me do all the rest. Do you think you can handle that?” Clarence paused briefly, appearing to consider something. Eugene simply stared at him. “You can communicate by whispering. Actual whispering, not sotto voce style. It requires far less lung capacity and is unlikely to cause much pain. I say again, do you think you can trust me? Because if you try to ‘help’ even a little, you could cause those wounds to push outside what’s meant to remain inside.”

“Yes,” Eugene whispered without hesitation. He didn’t know exactly what it was about this interesting apothecary that elicited his trust. And then it occurred to him as Clarence very slowly turned his patient's legs to his left side, encouraging Eugene to breathe through the pain: Clarence cares.

Not to mention….Clarence was right; whispering barely hurt Eugene at all….in complete opposition to when he’d shouted earlier upon first waking.

When Clarence went to turn Eugene from right to left by grabbing his right arm, however, they ran into a semi-unexpected snag. This arm, it appeared, could not be pulled...lest it trigger that nasty stitch Eugene had experienced earlier. So the apothecary took the saddle blanket and refashioned it into a type of jacket-sling so Eugene’s right arm was held secure against his chest; now his patient didn’t have to worry about his right arm being at the mercy of whatever gravity felt like doing with it.

With his free arm, Eugene lightly held the cushion against his gut. Then Clarence managed to carefully and successfully roll Eugene’s upper half onto his left side without any additional complications. Eugene was allowed to rest after all the additional activity. His side without the wounds was naturally far more stable and for the first time since awakening, the mere act of breathing didn’t make him wanna pass out from too much pain. Although it was still comparably arduous and taxing by trying to breathe deeply as instructed. The last time Eugene could recall feeling this helpless was when he had a nasty case of typhus around age 5 or 6 that had nearly killed him.

“Right now, I’m preparing an anesthetic for that wound in your back,” murmured Clarence. The apothecary was using medical terms that until that point in time for which Eugene had had very little use. It made Eugene wish he’d read and paid more attention like Rapunzel.

And mentally conjuring his beloved sweetheart so easily within such a natural context suddenly sent unbidden shockwaves of loneliness, hopelessness, and despair crashing through him. Regis would never release him and Eugene knew it. He’d gone to far too much trouble convincing others that Eugene no longer existed amongst the living. Past the end of his needfulness for this prisoner, the mad king might eventually attempt to use Eugene as bait at a later date. But until then, Eugene was still being secretly held here, wherever ‘here’ was...which had to mean that it was becoming more likely with each passing hour that Javeen’s decoy ruse had worked. That whatever was left after the fire the enemy troops had started, and after Corona’s soldiers watched their own captain get struck down, it was practically a given that nobody from his kingdom was out searching for Eugene right now.

In spite of himself, the back of his still-raw sinuses welled up and started dripping with these instant pent up emotions. He sniffled softly at first but when Eugene pictured himself back in the nursery, rocking Kleisonne and singing their special song….considering that Rapunzel has to sing it now….it was more than he could take. It had already been over two months since the last time he had left them to take up arms at New Old Corona and even though he could see Corona Island from the top of the mountain pass, as captain, Eugene felt as if he might as well have been a million miles away. With so few fighting men, with so few soldiers who’d actually experienced prior sustained combat much less led through it, such inexperienced leadership, and only a rather ancient stockpile of weaponry….(Corona had been at peace for hundreds of years, after all...) Eugene simply could not leave his station under any circumstances….not even to see his family. The kingdom’s needs had been too great….still are too great. Had his father’s battalions arrived yet from the Dark Kingdom? Probably not. Eugene had a feeling he’d be hearing all about it from the apothecary, chatty as he was. But then….but then -- one shining light of realization cut through the pain haze and fear fog….piercing its way through his overwrought mind and body. Rapunzel was actually queen now and thus not at the mercy and whims of what others thought or felt anymore. Not really. And Eugene could sense with absolute certainty that Rapunzel would not rest until she had found identifiable remains by means of incontrovertible proof. And once they found the only clue Eugene had managed to leave behind, Rapunzel’s resolve in finding him would become dang near indestructible. He’d just have to try and find a way to escape -- or more practically, considering his woeful state of being, somehow get word out ASAP so that Corona would still be performing a rescue, not a recovery.

Eugene hissed rather loudly at the sudden harsh stinging sensation emanating from around the wound in his back. The sharp intake of breath had in turn disturbed everything else within Eugene’s predicament. “My apologies,” Clarence spoke out, “I’m usually accustomed to patients who are already unconscious by the time I get to them,” he explained with a hint of nervousness.

Aaaand he’s apologizing again. For unintentionally hurting me. Truly this guy was proving over and over he really wasn’t Regis’s mad scientist henchman. After Clarence was finished with the stinging stuff, he grabbed some type of salve that Eugene was sure he already knew pretty well. Tallow, the same stuff used as a base for candles, also made a great healing and moisturization agent. It sealed the wound away from everything else including dirt and further abrasions.

It was basically how Eugene had avoided having too many scars for so many years, and the one main reason why he appeared completely unscathed, despite all of the bar fights he had been swept up in, and the smaller now invisible wounds he’s had. Although he currently rolled his eyes at his own past vanity by trying to achieve physical perfection with flawless skin. Eugene was certainly gonna have some gnarly scars after this….provided he lived long enough to actually heal from his open wounds and captivity….Eugene inwardly admonished himself to stop thinking morbidly. And to instead be grateful for Clarence and his incomprehensible kindness in such a morbid setting. And if Eugene weren’t already laying down, he would’ve been bowled over by what the apothecary did next. Clarence not only carefully cleaned and applied tallow to every inch of the abrasions those ropes had caused, he covered the red welts on Eugene’s wrists with long knotted-off strips of floursack cloth. It was such an unexpectedly….kind thing to do, to tend to wounds caused by a prisoner’s restraints…..Eugene was momentarily taken aback….and currently lost in thought. And this is when Clarence figured he’d had as good a time as any to crank up the hallucination juice.

Somewhere behind Eugene, something that smelled vaguely of incense and oil started burning nearby and he started coughing. Clarence reminded him about the cushion trick and the coughing sensation eased off and Eugene began to feel oddly and unexpectedly relaxed. His cognitive body functions had largely gone dormant and he was floating in a soft white haze. He felt….groovy. Every once in awhile, lightning streaks of pain might interrupt his dreaming as Clarence, who was not only a good apothecary but a well trained surgeon, worked on sewing up Eugene’s wounds.

Clarence couldn’t have Eugene eat or drink anything prior to surgery so that effectively eliminated anything taken by mouth when it came to easing his patient’s pain at this time. So the apothecary took the one safest route left to him; the psychoactive one. The main problem was that psychoactives didn’t technically knock you out….at least not the ones of which he was in possession.

The surgeon was distinctly worried that even if Eugene had tried to ingest any medicine or even water, it very well would have triggered pain so agonizingly distressful that he wouldn’t be able to stop screaming once it got started. Based on the prior blood and reflux content he’d seen so far, (as well as how his patient had reacted during his first few seconds upon waking) Clarence strongly suspected part of Eugene’s problem was a nasty duodenal tear and that meant high-intensity stomach acid was busy slowly seeping itself out everywhere it wasn’t intended to be, both inside and outside of his patient. Unneutralized stomach acid pouring itself into one’s abdominal cavity was indeed Not Good at All, especially since that includes everything else that regularly accompanies stomach acid. Clarence's plan was to be as hands-off as possible. He'd witnessed far too many patients die of resulting infection directly caused by a surgeon's brash (and yes, stupid) tendency to just dig around in open wounds. Clarence still didn't know if his patient needed to be sewn up all the way or if drainage sites needed to be packed as he healed.

All things considered, this “enemy” captain shouldn’t even be conscious. Eugene had to be practically dying of thirst and yet he wasn’t complaining. Here he was, on this makeshift exam/surgery platform, high as a kite, tripping aloud about fluffy purple bunnies wearing watermelon hats. Or was it purple watermelons wearing pink bunny hats? Whatever that meant, thought Clarence, with some amusement.

Clarence seemed to have an internal immunity against the “incense oil” he was burning for his patient’s sake. He was both annoyed and grateful for said immunity. He also fervently hoped this patient would stay distracted long enough with pleasant hallucinations in order for Clarence to do what he needed. It wasn’t like him to operate on a patient without explaining everything thoroughly, but he was hoping against hope that by subtracting another layer of self-awareness, it might somehow help Eugene stay distracted even longer. Besides, you can’t rightly swallow much of anything when it’s just going to…..leak back out such a nasty hole in your vital organs. Above all else, the young captain needed that tear repaired as quickly as possible.

Real things about world history discovers/innovations: When 'syringe' is mentioned here, it's not like a hypodermic needle or even an oral medication syringe. The size of syringes in the 18th century were more the size range of a can of spray deodorant on up to a large can of hair spray.

“Okay, Captain Fitz-Humpty-Dumpty, let’s try and put you back together again, shall we?” murmured the surgeon to himself, as he took one last glance at his overstocked supply of incense oil.

@gleamful-lanterns @kingreywrites @autumn-ravenclaw

A/N: In order to keep this an element of realism in this historical setting, you can imagine the amount of research that went into building this single chapter. Medicine was taking some monumental strides starting in 16th century (1500s) onward.

[sneezyminniejo]

Happy Birthday To Uh Oh

I wanted to put out a birthday sickfic because it’s my birthday! So here ya go.

TW emeto

Jungkook had woken up feeling completely off. He wasn't able to fully place the feeling and sighed as he got out of bed for another day of busy schedules. As he got ready for the day, he found himself being far more sluggish than usual. When it came time for breakfast, Jungkook found that he wasn’t all that hungry, so he just had a piece of toast and an apple.

Seokjin was the first one to notice anything, glancing over to the maknae, who appeared to be falling asleep with a piece of toast hanging out of his mouth. “Jungkook, are you feeling okay?” Jungkook startled out of whatever daze he was in and hummed. “I’m just tired, hyung. I don’t think I got enough sleep last night.” Seokjin accepted the response and went back to making eggs.

As the other member bustled about the dorm to get ready for the day, they too took note of Jungkook’s listlessness. They gave both the eldest and the youngest questioning glances and was given the same response of Jungkook just being tired.

During dance practice, Jungkook’s listlessness was especially apparent. His moves were slow and clunky. In fact he almost ran into Jimin a couple of times. Vocal practice wasn’t much better. Jungkook was struggling to reach the higher notes that were normally easy for him to reach. His voice also lacked the usual spark that was there even if they were just running scales. It eventually got to the point that Yoongi told Jungkook to go to his studio to take a nap on the couch. Jungkook accepted and left the group shortly thereafter.

While the youngest was napping, the other six decided to confer for a quick meeting. “Do you think he’ll be alert enough for what we have planned this afternoon? He doesn’t even seem to remember what today is.” Hoseok said. 

“I think he’s just really tired. He did go to bed after the rest of us did. I think we should continue with operation surprise party.” Jimin had said.

After about thirty minutes, Taehyung went to wake up Jungkook to go get dinner with him before heading back to the dorm. It was his job to keep the youngest distracted while the others got the dorm ready for the party. When Taehyung entered the studio he found that Jungkook appeared to have just woken up.

When Jungkook woke up from his nap, he realized why he’d been feeling so off all day. He was sick. Upon waking, he had a headache and was starting to feel a bit nauseous.

Right after he had come to this realization, Taehyung entered the studio. "Hey Kookie, hyungs want us to go grab dinner for them and bring it back to the dorm." "Okay, I'll be out in a sec hyung." Taehyung closed the door and waited for Jungkook.

Jungkook came out of the studio shortly, and he realized that he really wasn't hungry for anything and that he'd probably puke if he tried to eat anything. He followed Taehyung to a pizza joint, where the got five pizzas. Jungkook also talked his hyung into getting some rice and chicken for a side.

On the walk home, Jungkook's nausea was beginning to build. He started to take calculated breaths in hopes of staving off puking until he got inside. Puking all over the street would be far too embarrassing. The smell of the food was making it even harder for him.

Jungkook ran inside the second they reached the dorm. All of a sudden, all the lights were turned on."HAPPY BIRTHDAY JUNGKOOK!" Jungkook was so shocked at the surprise party and the fact that he had evidently forgotten his own birthday, that the nausea had momentarily subsided. Only momentarily.

Hoseok brought out the cake and everyone started singing. Suddenly Jungkook's stomach decided that it needed to be empty five minutes ago, so he didn't even have time to find a trash can before he threw up all over the floor. Jungkook is a coughing and spluttering mess, trying to not puke anymore than he already has, and is failing miserably. Every time he thinks there might be a lull so he can dash off to the bathroom, or sink, or something, his stomach contract violently, causing more of the vile liquid to resurface.

Needless to say the other six members were completely shocked at the scene before them. No one had any inkling that Jungkook was sick. They all thought that he was just tired.

It had also, apparently, been a mistake to have Hoseok carry the cake. Being a sympathetic puker, Hoseok didn’t stand a chance against the maknae’s near projectile stream. Normally he would have some kind of warning so he could potentially remove himself from the situation, but this was not the case. Hoseok practically threw the cake at the nearest person in hopes of not puking on it. That person was Jimin.

Jimin had managed to take the cake from Hoseok mostly unscathed. There was now some smudging in the frosting, but otherwise the cake was safe. Jimin went to put the cake on the counter while the others tended to the two that were busy spilling their stomach contents all over the floor of the dorm.

Since Taehyung was right next to Jungkook, he quickly placed the food they brought home off to the side and grabbed the bucket next to the door that they keep their umbrellas in and emptied it out. He thrust it underneath Jungkook’s mouth during one of the brief lulls, and began rubbing his back in hopes of comforting the younger.

Yoongi decided to help out Hoseok. He grabbed a nearby trash can and during a lull, put the can in the younger’s arms and led him away from the room. Namjoon went to grab cleaning supplies, and Seokjin went to the medicine cabinet to find their thermometer and any other medicine they might need.

After Jungkook’s intense display, he quietly uttered the word “dizzy” and Taehyung helped lead him to the couch so he could sit down sooner rather than later. Jimin joined the other two maknaes on the couch and started combing his hands through the youngest’s hair in hopes of giving him added comfort.

It didn’t take long for Seokjin to return with his supplies, nor did it take long for Namjoon to return with the supersorb, towels, mop, and buckets. Taehyunng decided to help their leader in cleaning up, since there were two piles of sick and two people would get the job done faster.

The first thing Seokjin did was take Jungkook’s temperature. “Aish Kookah, you have a moderate fever of 101.2. Why didn’t you tell anybody you were sick?” Jungkook, who currently had his head on Jimin’s shoulder and was utterly exhausted from the physical strain of vomiting said, “I didn’t know I was sick. I honestly thought I was tired until shortly after the nap in Yoongi-hyungs studio. I also thought that I wouldn’t throw up until long after returning to the dorm.” Jungkook glance down for a moment before glancing back up to his hyung. “Hyung could you make me some soup please?” Seokjin nodded and went to the kitchen to start making soup.

Several minutes later, Namjoon and Taehyung had finished cleaning up the vomit and Namjoon decided to take his accumulated trash out along with the bucket the Jungkook had been sick in so he could hose it off real quick. Upon the slightly worried look from Jimin about whether that was a good idea, Yoongi and Hoseok had reemerged and Yoongi gave Jungkook a freshly changed trash can, while Hoseok went to help Seokjin in the kitchen.

Taehyung grabbed the pizza and chicken that had been discarded and brought it to the kitchen as well before going on social media to announce there would be no birthday vlive stream for Jungkook today as he had fallen ill. He then helped Seokjin and Hoseok put the soup into bowls. The three brought the bowls of soup into the living room and handed out the bowls to the various members and they turned on the tv to watch Iron Man.

“Sorry you had to get a stomach bug on your birthday Kook.” said Jimin solemnly. Jungkook just gave Jimin a look before eating another spoonful of soup and said “It’s okay hyung. I was so out of it today that I had forgotten that it was my birthday until we got back to the dorm and you all shouted ‘Happy Birthday’.” They all gave him a sympathetic look. 

Hoseok decided to break the silence. “Can you try to give us some warning next time you’re about puke, so we don’t have a repeat of earlier?” Everyone laughed at that because it was obvious that what had happened earlier was extremely sudden and they also knew that Hoseok was joking in hopes of lightening the mood.

After a couple of days Jungkook was feeling much better and the seven members had a proper celebration. Jungkook did his birthday vlive and assured fans that he was doing significantly better than on his birthday and just told them that he had caught a stomach bug and left out the very disgusting details of what had happened.

[returnn-of-the-mac]

One thing that really irked me about Fallout 4 was the lack of illnesses. Our bodies evolve alongside diseases, gaining immunity through exposure, which is then passed to the next generation. Then you have the Sole Survivor, who has effectively time-traveled to the future, and subsequently has none of this immunity. They should be very vulnerable to infection. How would the companions react to Sole getting horribly sick from what is the equivalent of a mild cough for the rest of the wasteland?

Ayy, so this is another combined react! I felt like even though these two aren’t directly related, they could work together. So thanks for the rq’s @conspiracysnail and @doodledust2017! Please enjoy!😊

FO4 (❤️+ Nick & Deacon) Companions React: Sole Catching a Deadly Disease, Slipping Into a Coma & Waking Up

What was supposed to be a quick trip to the Kendall hospital to gather some supplies quickly turned into a night-long ordeal when Sole and their lover unexpectedly encountered an abnormally aggressive deathclaw. After a long and grueling battle, Sole and their partner emerged victorius.

Now the pair was trudging along a beaten dirt road when Sole suddenly felt ill. Very ill. Like nothing they had ever experienced in their 200+ years of living. Nevertheless, they continued to carry on.

MacCready:

“Um, hey. Maybe we should stop for a minute,” MacCready suggested, “You’re looking kinda...grey.”

Sole wiped some sweat from their forehead, assuring MacCready that they hadn’t slept well the night before. He seemed didn’t seem to buy it, but didn’t bother arguing.

Moments later, the urge to vomit suddenly overtook Sole. They desperately fished through their bag for something to suppress it—maybe a purified water?

“What’re you looking for?” MacCready asked, concerned, “Gun? Ammo? Gumdrops?”

Just as Sole opened their mouth to ask for a purified water, they fell onto their hands and knees and began vomiting.

“Eww,” MacCready grimaced and backed up a few steps, “You get food poisoning?”

Sole continued unleashing a seemingly endless stream of puke and their companion grew concerned.

“You...you gonna be okay? You must be running out of stuff to throw up,” MacCready warily approached, “[Name]? Can you still breathe?”

The vomit stream did not cease, and Sole felt themself losing consciousness. The last thing they remembered was being shoved to the side moments before fainting, narrowly avoiding the vile puddle in front of them.

Curie:

“[Madame/Monsieur], you look unwell,” Curie noted.

Sole denied feeling ill and pressed on.

“Zis is zerious, my love!” The synth said firmly, grabbing Sole’s hand to get their attention. It was cold and clammy.

Sole was taken aback by their friend’s unusually stern tone, and Curie’s eyebrows furrowed.

“I apologize for raising my voice, [Madame/Monsieur], but I am zincerely worried,” she explained, “I knew exploring ze ‘ospital was a risk because you ‘ave not been exposed to many Post-War diseases. You’re immune zystem...it will ztruggle.”

Sole let out a long, rattly cough and Curie frowned

“Oh non...zis ees not good,” Curie fished through her supplies to see if she could find anything to treat Sole. She walked over to her companion and gently rubbed their back, hoping to soothe their respiratory tract. They coughed again— this time much harder.

“[Madam/Monsieur]! You’re pupils are constricting!” the synth observed, tenderly squeezing Sole’s hand, “Ztay with me, mon amie, please!”

Sole experienced tunnel vision as their lover’s pleas got fainter and fainter. Then, everything went black.

Piper:

“Blue, you’re not looking too hot right now,” Piper commented, “Are you alright?”

Sole denied their illness and insisted on pressing forward. After about 5 more minutes of walking, Sole started to see black dots materialize around them. They began to sweat and shake their head frantically, trying to clear their vision.

“[Name]?” Piper stated. Her voice sounded comically deep, as if in slow motion “Arreeee yooooouu oookkkayyy?”

Sole giggled at the sound of their friend’s voice before the black dots completely overtook their sight. They felt their knees give way as the world went black.

Gage:

“An’ so I told em: how old do ya think we are? Ten? A rubber chicken ain’t cuttin it. Neither is a whoopie cushion. That shit ain’t hard— uh...boss?” Gage paused, “Are ya still listenin’ to my story? It’s pretty damn funny.”

Sole weakly nodded, and Gage stared at them.

“You’re fulla shit, boss,” Gage chuckled, “Now, what’s on your mind? Ya look...spacey.”

Sole swallowed and took a seat on the ground, the world spinning.

Gage frowned.

“What’s wrong, babe?”

He took a seat beside them and noticed their ashen skin.

“You look like shit. Tell me what’s goin on.”

Sole suddenly felt chills and their skin went clammy. They shot their companion a panicked look before they felt their vision go blurry.

“Hey!” Gage yelled, grabbing his lover by the shoulders, “Hey! Talk to me! Fucking speak!”

Sole collapsed into the Raider’s arms and blacked out.

Hancock:

“You feelin alright?” Hancock asked, frowning, “You haven’t said a word since we left the hospital. That ain’t like you.”

Sole shook their head and continued moving forward. They wanted to answer, but they couldn’t. They were too nauseous.

“Hey,” the ghoul pressed, approaching a flat boulder. He sat down and patted an open spot ned to him, “Come here, gorgeous.”

Sole sat down beside their lover and immediately curled up next to him. Hancock put his arm around them, but now knew without a doubt that something was going on.

“No shame in needin to take a break,” Hancock murmured, kissing the top of Sole’s head, “If ya need an off day, we can just take the day off. No harm in that, doll. The Commonwealth can survive a single day without ya.”

Sole smiled and opened their mouth to say thank you. Before they could get the words out, however, they began to projectile vomit.

Hancock jumped in surprise, but immediately composed himself. He climbed behind Sole and [held back their hair/rubbed their back] as they continued to puke.

“Easy, easy…” Hancock cooed— more so trying to keep himself calm than Sole.

After a few minutes of non-stop vomiting, the ghoul felt his lover falling forward. He roughly tugged them back to prevent them from falling.

Sole now lay face up on the rock, eyes closed. The force of the puking and the dehydration had caused them to black out.

Danse:

“Taffington Boathouse is just over the horizon,” Danse announced, “It would probably make for a safe place to spend the night— assuming the settlers have kept the bloodbug population under control.”

When Sole didn’t answer, the former Paladin turned around to check on them. He noticed his lover straggling behind.

“Soldier? How are you holding up? Do you need to take a break?”

Sole nodded and plopped down on a rock, curling up immediately.

A concerned Danse approached them, and put the back of his hand to their forehead.

“[Name], you’re burning up. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Sole closed their eyes.

Danse frowned and sat beside them. “Soldier, are you going to make it across the river? We could just camp out here for the—”

It was then that Sole went completely limp and began to roll off the rock. Danse sprung into action and caught them just before they hit the ground.

“[Name]! Talk to me, [name],” Danse demanded, holding Sole and grabbing their hand, “If you are unable to speak, squeeze my hand.”

Nothing happened, and Danse noticed how cold and numb Sole’s fingertips were.

“Oh. God. Dammit!”

Although Sole could neither move nor speak, they could still hear the commotion. They made one final attempt to communicate with their panic-stricken lover before they blacked out.

Preston:

“Hey,” Preston began, slowing his pace, “I need to ask— we need to talk.”

An exhausted Sole mustered all of their energy to focus on their concerned companion.

“I feel like you haven’t been taking care of yourself lately. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard,” the Colonel explained, approaching his lover, “I hate to say this to you— and please don’t take this the wrong way— but you look horrible, babe.”

The words hurt Sole, but they knew Preston was right. They did feel terrible. Their entire body ached from head to toe, their lungs hurt, and they felt nauseous.

“You should rest,” Preston suggested, “Since we’re still pretty far from Taffington Boathouse, we can camp out here. I’ll gather some firewood. In the meantime, you should eat something.”

Preston handed Sole a noodle cup.

“It’s cold, but at least it’s packed with nutrients.”

Sole tried to pop open the lid, but their hands fumbled around clumsily.

“Are you okay? You’re shaking like a leaf, babe.”

Just then, Sole’s vision went blurry. The last thing they remembered was Preston shouting their name before they blacked out.

Cait:

“Hold up, [handsome/gorgeous],” Cait began, “Ye ain’t lookin to hot. You’ve gotta take a break.”

Sole ignored the redhead and pressed onward, but the redhead roughly grabbed their arm and pulled them back.

“Oh no, ye don’t! We are stoppin here and campin out. I’m not gonna have ye pass out on me in the middle of a firefight. Got it?”

Sole tried to wiggle out of their lover’s grasp, but they were far too weak.

“Yer a stubborn one, ain’t ye. I’m not surprised. But ye can’t even shake free from my grasp and I’m not even tryin that hard. Now what if I were an enemy, darlin? Ye’d be good as dead.”

Sole sighed and sat down on a rock. Their head was pounding and their stomach was churning. The nausea was becoming unbearable.

“Hey,” Cait began, crouching next to them, “Yer lookin a bit...green. Do you need—” before she could finish, Sole began to vomit violently.

“Shite!” Cait shrieked, falling over backwards. She was covered in pink chunks. Despite being thrown up on, she shot back up and scrambled to her lover’s aid.

“See if ye can chug some water down or somethin,” the redhead suggested. Unfortunately, Sole’s stream of vomit failed to cease.

“Bloody hell! Are ye ever gonna stop!?”

Sole tried to regain control of their stomach contents, but they were unable to. After a solid two minutes of vomiting, Sole blacked out.

Nick:

“Stop,” Nick demanded. Sole turned around, shocked by the detective’s uncharacteristically stern tone.

Nick sighed and approached his lover.

“You work so damn hard to ensure everyone is taken care of, but sometimes, you just need to take care of yourself, dear,” Nick explained, “You look exhausted. Still beautiful as alway, but jaded.”

Sole hated to admit it, but they knew Nick was right. They were wearing themself out. After leaving Kendall Hospital and coming in contact with hundreds— if not thousands— of foreign disease strands, they were feeling it now more than ever.

“Honey,” the detective began, placing his hand on Sole’s forehead, “You’re definitely running a fever. Please, just rest for tonight. You deserve it.”

Sole took a seat on a nearby rock as the detective searched his inventory for a blanket and food. As Sole watched their lover, they began to feel dizzy.

“[Name]?” Nick called, looking over his shoulder, “Are you alright?”

Before Sole could answer, their vision went blurry. They felt themself losing their balance on the rock.

“[Name]!” Nick cried.

That was the last thing Sole remembered before everything went black.

Deacon:

“Hey hotshot, you ain’t lookin too hot,” Deacon teased, “You actually look kinda cold. I see goose bumps on your arms!”

Sole tried to crack a smile, but they just couldn’t muster the energy.

“Baaaabe, you good? Do you need water or something? Oh! Maybe a teddy bear! I’ve got a ton of those!”

An exhausted Sole curled up on the ground, and their lover could sense that something was wrong.

“[Name], tell me what’s up,” Deacon pressed, “You look...horrible, actually. Are you sick or something? Did you contract some kinda disease at the hospital?”

Before Sole could answer, they started seeing stars.

“[Name]?” Deacon asked, worried, “Hey...you hanging in there? You look all cross-eyed. [Name]?”

Everything went black.

…

Sole groaned and opened their eyes slowly. The light was blinding and their entire body was numb. They could make out some shapes— some settlers and...a person sitting right beside them? They must be at a clinic in one of the settlements.

Before Sole could even finish processing the environment, there was a sudden commotion in the room.

MacCready

“[Name]!” The mercenary cried, throwing his arms around Sole “You’re alive!”

Sole could barely breathe with how tight their lover was hugging them. In fact, they were surprised he even had this much strength. Sole tapped MacCready on the back a few times before he got the hint and pulled away.

“Heh, sorry,” he apologized sheepishly, “You were in a coma for two weeks. I...I thought I’d lost you.”

MacCready’s eyes started to glisten, and Sole mustered a small smile.

“I’m not crying,” he defended, “It’s dusty in here!”

His lover let out a laugh, and the mercenary lightened up a bit. He pulled Sole into another hug.

“I’m so glad you’re okay. I love you so much, [name].”

Curie:

“MON CHERIE!” Curie shrieked, sobbing into Sole’s shoulder, “Oh, I zought you were gone!”

Sole pet their lover’s hair as they continued to bawl.

“You ‘ad a zerious virus. You caught it from ze ‘ospital. Ze Kendall one,” the synth explained, “I tried to ‘elp you as much as I could, but I zimply did not ‘ave the proper equipment.”

Sole continued to comfort their distraught companion. When Curie had finally stopped crying, she stared lovingly into Sole’s eyes.

“I don’t know zwat I would do wizout you, my love,” Curie breathed, “You mean ze world to me.”

Piper

“Blue, Blue, Blue, oh my god!” Piper squeeled, clinging onto Sole’s arm, “You’re alive! I thought that afternoon two weeks ago would be the last time I’d ever get to speak to you again!”

Sole smiled as their lover babbled on.

“I love you so, so, so, so much! To the moon and back! More than every last grain of sand on the beach! More than all of the dust in the Commonwealth!”

Piper planted a warm kiss on Sole’s cheek, and then pursed her lips.

��Don’t you dare go scaring me like that again, you goober!”

Gage:

“Are ya— ” He stared at Sole, “Alive?”

Sole nodded and Gage grinned.

“I knew ya’d pull through it, babe! You’re the roughest, toughest [girl/guy] I know!”

Gage punched Sole’s arm— much to the annoyance of the onlooking settlers— and gave them a rough kiss on the forehead.

“Ain’t no germs gonna mess with us.”

Hancock:

“Hey, how’re ya doin, sweetheart?” Hancock asked, brushing loose strands of Sole’s hair to the side, “I’m so glad to see you’re doin okay. I love ya, doll.”

Sole smiled, and Hancock wrapped his arms around his lover.

“You sure had me spooked. And I’m not scared of anything,” Hancock laughed, tilting his head toward a mountain of used jet puffers.

Sole rolled their eyes and the ghoul chuckled.

“I know ya hate when I do that but...I just couldn’t fathom spending the rest of my life without ya. I love you so much, and I care about ya more than I’ve cared about, well, anything honestly.”

Danse:

“There you are,” Danse sighed, squeezing Sole’s hand, “I’m glad to see you’re alright.”

“And now you can finally stop pestering me about [his/her] condition,” an annoyed settler— seemingly the doctor— remarked.

“Affirmative, civilian,” Danse growled, “Now if you would please give us some privacy. All of you.”

All of the settlers left the room, and Danse looked back at Sole.

“I was...scared, admittedly,” Danse confessed, “If I lost you, I honestly don’t know what I’d do.”

Sole smiled at Danse, and the former Paladin pulled his lover into a tight embrace.

The two sat in silence for a moment, Danse holding his lover close, before finally breaking the silence.

“I love you, [name],” Danse murmured, “So much.”

Preston:

“Babe?” Preston whispered, “Oh my god. You’re awake!”

The Colonel beamed and pulled Sole into a tight hug. The settlers clapped.

“I really thought we’d lost you, General,” Preston explained, “You mean so much to me. You stuck by my side when I was at my worst, and for that I am truly grateful.”

Sole smiled and Preston gave them a kiss on the cheek before pulling them into another tight hug.

“Thank you for staying strong and surviving,” he whispered, voice wavering, “Being together with you is truly amazing, and I just couldn’t imagine— I don’t even want to think about it. I love you, babe.”

Cait:

“Good mornin, sunshine,” Cait giggled, “How was yer slumber?”

Sole raised an eyebrow and Cait ruffled their hair. She was unusually giddy.

“Ah, I knew a few germs wouldn’t take down the tank! I knew ye would be survivin,” the redhead chirped, “Didn’t worry a smidge.”

Sole studied Cait’s face and observed her puffy red eyes, the dark bags that framed them, and her hollow cheeks. She looked like she had been to hell and back. Was she back on psycho? Sole hoped not.

Sole furrowed their eyebrows and looked deep into their lover’s eyes.

“W-What?” Cait cracked. Her lip was quivering, “Quit lookin at me like that!”

After a few moments of silence, the redhead finally broke down. She threw her head down on the pillow beside Sole and began to sob violently. Sole rubbed her back as she struggled to breathe.

When Cait had finally cried herself out, she stared at Sole, wiping away a string of snot with her arm.

“Yeah, yeah I’m disgustin,” Cait mumbled, “And no, I’m not back on psycho. I know that’s probably what yer thinkin. I’ve just been worried sick.”

Sole smiled and Cait hugged her lover.

“I’d never undo my sobriety. You sacrificed so much for me. I can’t thank ye enough for that, darlin. I hate to sound cheesy, but yer the light of me life.”

Nick:

“My god,” Nick breathed, immediately pulling Sole into a tight embrace, “I’m so glad you’re alright.”

Nick looked at the young doctor in the room and nodded.

“Thank you,” he began, peering over Sole’s shoulder, “You are truly a talented young man. [He/she] wouldn’t be here without your hard work.”

The doctor smiled and left the room, leaving the couple in peace.

The detective held Sole and rocked them back and forth for a few moments before gazing into their eyes.

“Darling...I truly didn’t expect you to ever wake up from that coma. You were out for two weeks,” Nick explained, “By the time I got you here, you were in rough shape. I’m eternally grateful to everyone who came together to help you. And I’m so relieved that you’re alive and well.”

He planted a passionate kiss on Sole’s lips before pulling away and smiling.

“Get some rest, dear. You need it,” he stated, pulling the thin sheet up to Sole’s chin and fluffing their pillow, “I love you.”

Deacon:

“Well hello there!” Deacon laughed, his eyes brimming with tears, “Long time no see, babe!”

He playfully wiggled Soles hand around a bit before pulling them into his arms.

“I missed you so much,” he stated, wiping is eyes, “I really thought I’d lost you.”

He pulled back, forcing a small grin.

Sole raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t think you can escape me that easily,” he teased, “I plan on sticking around to annoy you for at least another few decades!”

[winterfang53]

Gajevy Week 2020 - Trials

Gajevy Week 2020 Trials!

Gajeel had never thought that their first pregnancy would be so hard.

In the beginning, Levy and Gajeel had kept their surprise a secret from the rest of the Guild, telling only Lily -- at the advice of Porlyusica.

“The first trimester is the most critical,” Porlyusica had explained, “if you’re going to have a miscarriage, it will happen then. You’re not far enough alone to get an ultrasound done, but your vitals look good so you’re fine for now. Just don’t overdo it!”

This had scared him. The thought that the little life the two of them created together could vanish on them was terrifying. While Levy felt fine and so far Porlyusica thought everything was going well, this didn’t stop Gajeel from monitoring Levy closely.

Which he’s forever grateful that he did.

About a month in, Levy developed a sudden and violent case of morning sickness. It was like one moment she felt fine and the next she had her head in the toilet throwing up everything she ate the past 24 hours. Gajeel did the best he could; making sure Levy ate and being there for her when she felt ill but there wasn’t much they could do. It was at this time that they had to tell Wendy about the baby, so she could help monitor Levy’s nutrients.

After almost a month of this -- 2 months in -- Porlyusica finally had an idea of what might be causing Levy to be so sick.

“We don’t have any records of Dragon Slayers having offspring,” she said during one of the Redfox’s appointments, “most women don’t get this sick and based at me and Wendy’s observations, I think the baby might be extracting an abnormally large amount of mineral -- particularly iron -- from Levy. This might indicate that Gajeel’s magic has somehow affected the baby. We’ll need to start you on supplements.”

And the supplements helped! Levy started feeling better, not 100%, but still better -- though not as much as Porlyusica would have liked. Gajeel really couldn’t understand why the supplements weren’t working as they should have, she was taking the right dosage but it was almost like she needed even more!

It started to make sense why near the 3-month mark when Levy suddenly grew a baby bump. It had literally happened overnight, shocking the Redfox family at the size.

“I’m only 3 months!” Levy exclaimed, “how am I already this big?”

Porlyusica, this time, had the answer. “You’re having twins,” she said in relief as she showed the couple the ultrasound screen, “this is why the supplements weren’t working as well as they should have -- you had 2 babies sucking you dry.”

There, on the black and white screen, were 2 tiny babies curled next together. Their little heartbeats fluttering fast as Gajeel rested his head on Levy’s stomach to listen. Gajeel had never felt so much love, for 2 little people he had never met before, in his life.

“Twins will bring their own complications,” Porlyusica explained, “even though you’re past your first trimester, you need to be extra careful. We might need to put you on bed rest in a couple of months.”

The sudden baby bump made it impossible to hide from the Guild any longer, though the looks on their faces when they learned that Gajeel and Levy were expecting twins of all things was pretty funny. 

“You’re having a baby!” wailed Jet and Droy, clutching each other as they cried.

“They’re having twins, you idiots!” Cana cheered, “lets party!”

The party had been short-lived, however, as they discovered that the smell of alcohol makes Levy nauseous, resulting in her almost projectile vomit across the Guildhall. Unfortunately, this prevented Levy from visiting the Guild as much as she would have liked, causing the stressed -- now very emotional -- mother-to-be to sob on a daily basis. 

“Lev, baby don’t cry!” Gajeel pleaded as he held her, stroking her hair gently, “you’ll be able to visit the guild soon! Porlyusica said most mothers get over their nauseousness in the 3rd trimester!” 

“B-but I wanna go today!” Levy wailed, clinging to him tightly, “I wanna see my friends!”

“They can just come here Sweetheart, now come on; you need to eat! You’re eating for 3 now, Lily’s making a big lunch!” Gajeel said trying to pacify her.

Levy looked up at him in horror, making Gajeel immediately regret his choice of words -- though not really understand why he did -- as a fresh batch of tears welled in her eyes. “You think I’m fat!!” Levy sobbed loudly, pushing Gajeel away to cry into her arms which emphasized her baby bump. 

Much to Gajeel’s chagrin, emotional Levy was here for the rest of the pregnancy, which Gajeel learned the hard way was very sensitive about her weight and how big she looked. The nauseousness vanished though at the 5-month mark, only to be replaced with bizarre food cravings that happened at any time.

“Gajeel, honey, wake up!” Levy whispered in his ear one night around 2 AM, “I need you!”

“Wha-” Gajeel awoke, half-dazed, “Wha-what happened? Are you ok?”

Levy shook her head, “no! I need Doritos with strawberry sauce!”

Gajeel could only look at his wife in disbelief, “...you want Doritos with strawberry sauce?” he asked, “at...2 AM Lev?”

Levy looked at him shyly, pulling the covers up to her nose. “I need them,” she said as if she too had no idea why.

Gajeel took a deep breath before swinging his feet out of bed, “what flavor Doritos Shrimp?”

“Cool Ranch!” Levy exclaimed cheerfully.

“Cool Ranch and strawberries…” Gajeel whispered to himself as he rummaged through the cabinets, “the very idea makes me wanna vomit myself.”

By the time they had reached 7 and a half months, Levy looked more baby then Levy. The swell of her stomach grew to a size that made Levy always uncomfortable, making it hard for her to sleep which brought a bought a new round of nausea. Gajeel couldn’t wait for the twins to be born, just so he could ground them for the rest of their lives for this.

“Not even born and they’re already trouble Lily,” Gajeel said one afternoon while Levy was taking a rare nap, “they’re not even here yet and I already feel outnumbered.”

“What did you expect Gajeel?” Lily teased, “they are your children after all.”

“Oi!”

 They didn’t have to wait long, however, because just a week after 8 months, in the middle of the Guildhall, Levy’s water broke; catapulting the Guild into a mass panic. Porlyusica had luckily enough had been at the Guild that day, allowing her and Wendy to take action. 

“She’s going to need a C-section,” Porlyusica had declared after examination, “you need to leave.”

“What!” Gajeel growled, “like Hell I am!”

With the help of Lily, Master, Natsu, and Laxus of all people, Gajeel had been dragged out of the room to wait in the hall. For 1 painstaking hour, Gajeel paced violently outside the clinic door, grumbling and glaring that the offensive wooden door that kept him from his Levy, when he froze stiff at the sudden sound of babies crying. Tears welled in his eyes, almost blurring out the form of Wendy who poked her head out from behind the door.

“Wanna come meet your babies Daddy?” she teased as Gajeel nodded dumbfoundedly.

As he tripped through the door and laid eyes on Levy for the first time, Gajeel couldn’t fight the tears from falling. There, bundled up and resting in her arms, were their babies! The two little bundles were fast asleep, their little head rising and falling with Levy’s breathes. Both of the babies had fine blue hair atop their pink bodies but the baby on the right had a bright pink headband: A boy and a girl!

“Gajeel, they’re perfect!” Levy cried as she held them close to her, the babies nuzzling into their mother’s chest for warmth.

“‘Course they are Lev,” Gajeel choked as he came near, placing his large hand on both the babies heads, stroking their fine blue hair gently, “They’re ours!”

Levy laughed, starling the babes resting slightly before they grumbled and resettled themselves. “Great,” Levy joked, “they have your attitude!”

“Oi! That just means they’ll be great!” Gajeel said, defending himself, “what are we gonna do Lev? A boy and a girl who are already trouble… I say we ground them for the past 8 months!”

This made Levy laugh again, actually waking the babies this time to open beady red eyes to glare at their father. “Oh Gajeel, I would do it all over again,” Levy sighed as she kissed the babies’ heads, “every crappy morning and sleepless night! Oh, I would go through all those trials again for them, I love them so much!”

Gajeel leaned over and kissed Levy, “me too Lev, me too. I’d go through anything for our little trials of love.”

[lorenzobane]

Whatever It Takes

(AO3 Link) 

Magnus knows. Magnus knows. Magnus knows.             Until suddenly--                                              He doesn’t.

And Alec knows better than most that Magnus’s moments of weakness, those rare moments he falters when he’s human in a way that Alec desperately wants to sink his teeth into because yes. He’s not alone. Magnus is here in the mud with him- struggling and making mistakes and fucking up. Those are the moments that people latch on to. It's unfair, and its cruel, centuries and centuries of being right more often than wrong somehow barely matter. What’s crazy, and what Alec hasn’t figured out how to say, is that he wants that. He wants the blood, and the tears, and the sweat on his brow. He thinks its ridiculously cute that Magnus bruises easily. That Alec barely needs to press his fingers into Magnus’s trim, muscular hips to leave bruises makes him happy. Mostly because... Well, mostly because he doesn’t want to seem like a crazy person. Intellectually, he knows that Magnus wakes up with morning breath and he needs to shit, just like any other human being. But Magnus just won’t show him. He tries his best to understand. He tries to imagine how he would respond to Magnus suddenly became cruel, the way Camille did. If a person who loved him, and helped him, and literally pulled him off the ledge, suddenly began corroding at his heart and his soul. If Alec is honest, he’s not entirely sure he’d ever recover. But Magnus did. He kept loving, and trusting and giving- and fuck. He wants to say all of this one day, he wants decades and decades to say the things he’s not ready to say yet. But Magnus is somehow both stubborn and dying. A combination he’s mostly convinced that no one else has mastered. “Let me in, Magnus,” Alec says, pounding on the magical separation for what feels like the thousandth time. Magnus glares at him, infuriatingly put together considering he has blood pouring down his mouth. “We have no proof I’m not going to kill you. We will wait until Isabelle is finished.” “Izzy,” he says to be contrary, “thinks that you shouldn’t be alone.” Because it’s a Warlock illness. Lilith, having figured out that Magnus is the one putting her evil plan together, decides to punish him. She corrupts the ley lines in such a sadistically specific way, so she’s physically ionizing Magnus from the inside out. Magnus shakes his head as much as he can and lays back down. The only victory he has won thus far is that Magnus should rest. “Magnus,” Alec tries again. “This is an illness designed for you. No one else can get hurt. I won’t be hurt. Please, let me be with you.” To hold you, to wipe the sweat from your brow, to be trusted by you. Magnus stares at him. “We don’t know that.” “Yes, we do!” Alec yells. “Everyone with more than two brain cells says so. So please, just... Drop the barrier. Let me be there.” Magnus stares at him again, and he looks ashamed. Weak. Alec hates it. “I... I’m not myself. I can’t... be me right now.” Alec glares at him. “You think I care? You could be projectile vomiting, and I would still want to be there.” Magnus glares back, “there is no need to be disgusting.” Alec rolls his eyes, “baby. I’m a shadowhunter. I am covered in disgusting fluids most of the day--” “Well, you’re really more of a bureaucrat now-” Alec doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he leans back against the wall and stares at Magnus. “I don’t... It’s hard. I don’t want you to see me like this. Disgusting, and weak.” Alec responds, “you’ve never been disgusting.” They look at each other for a moment, and Magnus looks away. Well, to be fair more vomits away. Alec hates watching because he sees the bright red leave Magnus’s mouth and he knows that the blood loss is going to start getting bad. Magnus has been using spells to keep his blood pressure up, but sooner rather than later, he’s going to get tired.   Magnus is quiet long enough that Alec just continues, “please. Magnus. I love you. Don’t... I can’t take it. You being in there, suffering alone. At least let me be with you.” The spell drops. Alec rushes to Magnus’s side before he can think, and Magnus looks terrible. There are times when they are fucking (”making love” his traitorous and obnoxious mind insist) Magnus has looked wrecked, panting and trusting and Alec’s. He doesn’t look like that now. He looks shattered, and Alec can’t fix him. He smells sick. Alec’s shadowhunter senses aren’t terribly helpful now, because he can smell the rot right under Magnus’s skin and he’s scared. “Magnus,’ he says, to distract himself. “Everyone is looking. Us, the Warlocks, the Vampires, hell- for reasons I can’t understand, even the Silent Brothers.” “I’m likable” Magnus replies, he has a small smirk on his face while he pretends to be brave. Alec ignores that and reaches for the bowl of cold water Magnus summoned fifteen minutes ago, and gently dips a cloth into it, pressing the water against his sweating head. “I do have to tell you though,” Magnus says, his lips are dry and chapped this close up, “that I’m not sure how much longer I can keep my blood levels up. Exsanguination might be a more pressing problem than anything else.” “Can you please,” Alec starts, sighing heavily, “not use the word exsanguinate when you’re talking about yourself?” “Is there a better word?” Alec thinks about it for a second, and says, “probably not, but luckily that won’t be a problem because we’re going to fix it before it gets that far.” “Speaking of,” Magnus says, laying down fully and closing his eyes, “why are you here? I thought you’d be out busting balls.” Alec shakes his head ruefully, “unfortunately ley line magic theory and greater demons are a bit above my understanding. I was just slowing Cat and Izzy down, and making them waste time explaining their theories in regular people terms just wasn’t a good way to help you. At least here, I can be with you, try to make things a little less painful, and you can borrow my strength.” “You’re cute,” Magnus says, his eyes still closed as he talks, his lips just barely parting to form words. Alec smiles fondly, as worried as he is, now that he is at Magnus’ side the problem feels solvable. Magnus’s skin under his hand, cold and clammy it may be, remind Alec that for the moment Magnus is breathing. Alec opens his mouth to respond when Magnus shoots up suddenly and leans over the bed to grab the bucket next to him. He gags violently, the scent of blood and bile filling the space. Magnus’s body trembles as tears of pain and frustration edge at the corners of his eyes. “How much longer do you think you can hold up?” Alec asks softly, he wants an honest answer. Magnus shakes his head as he lays back down, “honestly, Alexander, it’s a miracle that I’ve even lasted this long.” “That is because you’re the most stubborn person on Earth,” Alec replies, filling his voice with false confidence. “That still doesn’t answer my question though.” “I’m giving myself probably another half an hour before I don’t have the strength to replenish my blood,” Magnus says, his voice calm and even. Alec pulls out his phone to check if Izzy has any messages, his heart clenching when he has no new notifications. “Give me a second,” Alec says, and Magnus gives a disinterested hum as he seems to slip into a light slumber. Alec moves swiftly out of the room, hoping not to wake him up. He punches Izzy’s number, and it rings for a moment, before she answers, breathless, “Alec! How is he?” “Not great,” Alec says, understating drastically. “Please tell me you have a solution.” “I think we’re close,” she says, distracted. “The problem is Lilith didn’t corrupt the Ley Lines in a straightforward, “poisoning the well” way, it is just affecting Magnus. So, short of temporarily redirecting the entire line and letting it reset, we don’t know what to do.” “So why don’t we just do that?” Alec asks. Izzy goes silent for a moment, “are you asking me why we aren’t redirecting a line of pure archaic magic?” “Magnus did it once,” Alec reminds her. “Yeah!” she says, slightly hysterical, “He’s Magnus. We don’t have anyone else who can do that!” “Can’t Caterina?” Izzy makes a noise in the back of her throat, “Maybe! But if she can’t, she’ll be burned alive. Magnus would never, ever forgive us if that happened.” Alec wants more than anything to remind her that what Magnus thinks won’t matter if they aren’t able to actually save him. He shoves it down. “What if she had help? I can give her my strength, or Clary can. I mean Clary has pure Angel blood! That has to count for something. Or, we both can. Come on, Izzy- we have a solution! We just need to make it work. I am not letting him die because we weren’t creative enough to save him! Fuck that.” Alec takes a deep breath, he didn’t even realize he started yelling at some point. Izzy goes silent on the other end, and says, “Let me talk to Cat. I’ll call you back.” When he walks back in, Magnus is still asleep. His skin is paler than Alec has ever seen it, and now that he is getting closer he can see that Magnus’s body is shaking violently, and Alec can see why. He has sweat through his blanket and the sheet underneath, the cool fabric feeling undoubtedly worse against his overheated skin. “Hey,” Alec says softly, as Magnus stirs. He blinks up, confused and slow like he isn’t sure exactly where he is. “Hey, yourself,” he says after a moment. His voice is rough and dry, so Alec gently helps him up and gives him water. “We have a solution,” Alec says eventually. Magnus turns to him as sharply as he can, “really? That is wonderful, what is it?” Alec hesitates. He knows Magnus if he implies that either he or Cat will be in any danger, he’ll riot (as much as his weakened body will allow). Alec spends a second more, hedging his bets before responding, “I’ll tell you when it’s confirmed. Izzy is talking to Cat about it right now.” As he says that, his phone pings. Alec glances down, and he sees a text from Izzy, with a simple “Come upstairs. Cat agreed.” Alec swallows nervously but goes to put his phone back in his pocket. “Cat just agreed. I have to go upstairs to help out, I’ll come back when it’s done.” “When what is done?” Magnus asks nervously. He has a weak grip on Alec’s wrist, his shaking cold hand on Alec’s pulse point solidifies what he has to do. He would do anything for Magnus, this is easy. Alec gently pulls out of Magnus’s grasp, “we found a solution for the Ley Lines.” Magnus makes an impatient noise, “Well, what is the solution.” “I’ll tell you later,” Alec says, pressing a kiss against Magnus’s chapped, cold lips which are parted slightly in outrage. “No,” Magnus says, his voice haughty and imperial, “you will tell me right now, Alec.” “We’re going to redirect the Ley Line to let it reset,” Alec says in a rush as he continues towards the door. “And by we, you don’t mean… You can’t mean…” Magnus says, his eyes going wide. He tries to pull himself up, desperate to stand. Alec rushes back to push him down gently. “We’ll be fine, I’m going to give her my strength. It’s going to be fine, and I’ll come right back when we’re done.” “Alec,” Magnus says urgently. “This is dangerous, Cat has Madzie, you can’t let her… Not for me. Please, I’m not worth this.” Alec shakes his head, “I’m sorry you feel that way, Magnus. But we all disagree. You are more than worth this. Besides, you once did this by yourself, I think the two of us can handle it.” Magnus shakes his head again, his eyes are wide with terror, and Alec feels terrible for a moment before he shakes it out. Magnus dying isn’t an option, so they will do what it takes. He walks towards the door without looking back, he can hear Magnus’s panicked breathing as he walks away and everything in his body wants to turn back and pull Magnus into his arms but he can’t. They don’t have the luxury of time. When he gets upstairs, Caterina, Izzy, Clary, and Jace are already there. Izzy is standing by the metal lever while Clary stands to the right of Cat and Jace guards the door.

“I’m going to need both of you,” Cat says sharply, looking between Clary and Alec. “I am going to need to hold it for a full five minutes, much longer than I will be able to stand alone.” With that, she pulls her sleeves up and gestures for Clary and Alec to each grab an outstretched forearm. Her fingers spread wide as she gets ready to channel the energy through her. “On my count,” Cat says, her eyes fixed firmly in front of her. “One… Two… Three… Now.” Izzy flips the lever, and as soon as she does, pure white energy begins coursing through Cat. Alec feels the magic under her skin, burning and intense, so he immediately channels his own power, forcing it through her and allowing the magic to travel through him as well. It is agony, he can’t imagine that Magnus once did this by himself because the pain is unreal. It is like pressure on all sides, threatening to burst his skull, the magic is white hot and heavy. Alec will never again be curious about what it would be like to be covered in molten lava. Time stretches and snaps, popping in and out of Alec’s head like daisies. It could be seconds or hours, but all Alec can focus on is Magnus. He breathes through the pain and thinks about Magnus’s weak, cold hand on his wrist and knows that he has to stand his ground. When it ends, Alec collapses slightly, as to Clary and Cat. Distantly, he hears Izzy run frantically up to them, gently pulling Alec back up. “Did it work?” Alec manages. “We won’t know until we…” Izzy starts, before cutting herself off slightly. “Yes, I daresay it did work,” a new voice cuts into the room. Alec turns around, his face already split into a weak smile because standing on the door frame, leaning heavily, and still clearly weak, is Magnus. The blood loss and, the physical pain of the poisoning remain evident in the tired tilt of his eyes, but he’s standing, and he looks like he has already regained some strength. “Oh thank the Angel,” he hears Clary say, her voice thick with tears. Alec moves without meaning to until he’s in front of Magnus and pulling him into a bear hug, “Thank the Angel. I love you so much. I am so, so glad it worked.” “My hero,” Magnus says with a dry twist on his lips, but his eyes give his act away. They are shining with love and worry. “Never do that again though, Alexander. If I find out that you have endangered Caterina ever again…” “Hey, old man,” Cat says cutting in. “It was my idea too, don’t blame the infant.” Alec rolls his eyes, “Yeah. We had to do something, what was the other option?” Magnus raises his eyes pointedly, “fine. Thank you all very much. God knows that dying like that would have been humiliating. Not at all my style.” Alec opens his mouth to say something, but what comes out instead is a sob, because Magnus is right there. He’s standing, and joking, even though he is in a thin t-shirt and loose pants he has never looked more like himself, or more beautiful. Magnus’s eyes turn back to him in an instant and Alec is pulled back into his arms. The smell of rot that was under Magnus’s skin before is dissipating, leaving behind his natural scent and it makes Alec shake even more. “I think,” Magnus says, “it might be time for all of us to go to bed.” Alec nods into Magnus’s shoulder, “that sounds like a great idea.” When they are back in Alec’s room at the institute, and after Magnus has showered and changed, Alec lets himself breathe. Seeing Magnus come so close to death, so close that if they had been slower, he could have died in a brutal, painful, way, it terrifies him. Alec already knows he is going to have nightmares about this for years, but for the moment, Magnus is settling next to him, tired and warm. His heartbeat is steady in his chest, and his breathing is constant, and it is better than any symphony ever composed. “I love you,” Magnus says softly, his head is resting on Alec’s shoulder, so the soft puffs of air hit his neck. “Magnus,” Alec starts, swallowing hard. “I love you, too. I love you more than you can even imagine.” “Thank you for saving my life,” Magnus continues, his voice still soft. Alec pulls Magnus close, so his body is resting more entirely on top of Alec like a sizeable muscular blanket. “Trust me when I say, there was no other choice.”

[sickdaysofficial]

Not Again... (Sick Days #5, Day One)

Hey hey! 

So this is personally my first time participating in Sick Days, but the other admin on this blog did it last time around. 

Blog problems happened (bugs and whatnot), so we had to make a new blog. Hopefully we can gain some new followers through here! (our blog is @simplysickness )

To anyone who doesn’t follow us, this fic features two newer characters, Demi and Sasha

Demi is a performer with panic disorder and Sasha is his boyfriend and a director who has Crohn’s (Which I will have a fic with later on in the week) 

This is an Emeto fic, but there is mentions of Demi freuently being ill to anxety

so triggers for anxiety mention (though no description really) and emeto

Demitar was no stranger to anxiety. Nor was he a stranger to stomach aches from anxiety.

It doesn’t really take much, his stomach sensitive to aches and nausea. It happened randomly, literally out of nowhere. And Demitar didn’t question it.

So, when Demitar came home after the team breakfast with his managers and producers, he wasn’t phased in the slightest that his stomach started hurting.

It had been Sasha’s idea for him to stay home. Rather both of them stay home. Demitar to relax some, as his schedule from the past few weeks was hectic, and Sasha to keep an eye on the younger.

“Sasha… I’m going to try and get some more sleep, okay?” Demitar asked, his voice quiet as it usually was.

“Rough night?” Sasha asked curiously

Demitar nodded slowly. Who was to say it wasn’t? His anxiety was unpredictable and more often than once, it kept him up overnight.

“Go get some sleep, I’ll hang out in the living room, if you need me…” Sasha said, going to stand in front of the shorter “Please, please… If things get bad for you, don’t worry about bothering me okay?”

Demitar whimpered softly, but nodded, swallowing thickly before going into his bedroom.

No matter how desperately he tried to sleep, he couldn’t. He tossed and turned, squirming and trying to get comfortable. Something wasn’t sitting right in his stomach. The organ felt like it was being tossed, the contents sloshing as Demitar tried to move.

It bubbled uncomfortably, occasional tastes of acid licking the back of his throat. He prayed it was just because of how much he was moving, that it wasn’t anything to worry about. He couldn’t be sick. He had no time to be sick.

Those thoughts push at him. And suddenly he can feel his heartbeat quicken and his stomach tighten. He closes his eyes and takes deep breaths, but the nausea won’t leave.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been in his room, but he knows if he stays in here alone he’s just going to work himself up. He’s fine. His stomach only hurts from anxiety and that’s it.

As he stands, his vision tilts and wavers a second. Okay, he’s dizzy. He gets dizzy with his anxiety. It isn’t a big deal.

Demitar shook his head, stumbling out of bed and out of his room.

He navigated his way to the living room, choking back an acidic taste on his throat. He was fine, he just had to keep telling himself that.

“Hey babe, what’s going on?” Sasha asked, looking up from the television and to Demitar

“It’s fucking with my head. I… I can’t be alone.” Demitar answered “Can I stay out here with you?”

“Yeah, come here.” Sasha speaks, moving over some.

Demitar nodded slowly and walked over to the couch, sitting down.

Sasha pat his leg gently, and Demitar is quick to pick up on what he means, laying his head in Sasha’s lap.

“Try to sleep love.” Sasha spoke as he began to run his fingers through Demitar’s hair in hopes to calm him, but he clicks his tongue at the feeling of warmer than usual skin “Demi, love, you’re running a fever”

“I… shouldn’t be? I feel fine. Just tired.” Demitar remarked “I was under my sheets and a blanket, maybe that’s it?”

Sasha doesn’t buy it. He really doesn’t. But he doesn’t want to worsen Demitar.

Demitar bit his lip as he closed his eyes against Sasha’s touch, swallowing thickly again and wrapping an arm around his stomach.

Sasha continued to mindlessly weave his fingers between the locks of Demitar’s fading blonde dyed hair. You could see his natural color now too. It was a good look for him.

Sasha could feel Demitar’s breathing even out. His normally pale lips were parted and Sasha could see the bottom of his crooked teeth.

For an hour, things are peaceful. Sasha went back to what was on TV, occasionally looking down at his sleeping boyfriend.

But an hour later, Demitar seemed to grow restless. Only a little bit, moving a little so he was laying on his stomach, his other arm wrapped around his abdomen now too. A soft whimper pulling from him before nothing else before he shifted again, now pressing his face toward Sasha’s stomach.

Sasha sighed softly, reaching over and rubbing Demitar’s back gently.

But the touch doesn’t relax Demitar, instead the singer starts to wake up.

The room was spinning in his line of vision, his stomach felt like he was in the car on a twisting and uneven road, jostling in all directions even though he was laying down. He moaned miserably, curling up on himself.

He felt uncomfortably warm. It was suffocating and he didn’t understand why. A taste of pennies washed over the back of his throat, the taste alone making him want to gag.

He was almost positive he was going to hurl now. No fight could stop it.  But at least he could get to the bathroom.

The seventeen year old sat up slowly. But then his body stopped working. He felt paralyzed. He wanted to move, to stand up and bolt to the kitchen at least. But his body refused.

No, no, no….

“Demi, baby, are you okay?” Sasha asked, sitting up more. But seeing how dramatically pale Demitar was, he grabbed the blanket off the couch.

Demitar’s shoulders lurched, a violent wave of vomit ripping up his throat almost instantly, splattering the blanket, dripping to the floor, and coating Sasha’s front.

“Baby… hey… hey can you choke it back just a minute?” Sasha questioned.

There was a gurgle in Demitar’s throat and his stomach growled ominously, but he still sealed his lips tight and tried to choke it back.

Sasha dropped the blanket on the floor, bolting to his feet and grabbing a hold of Demitar. The second the singer is on his feet, he’s bolting to the kitchen, crashing into the sink as a thick projectile wave of chunky liquid splashes into the sink.

Again, and again, Demitar violently purges what’s in his system. Thick and chunky, wave after wave, he retches up the contents in his stomach with less and less effort each time.

As he gets a small reprieve, he rests his elbows on the outer sides of the sink, locking his fingers together and pressing his forehead to the seeming cradle his fingers made, his body trembling like a cold chihuahua as dizziness made him seem to sway on his feet.

Sasha steps away, grabbing a stool from the island and pulling it behind Demitar.

“Baby, hey… sit down. You look ready to pass out…” Sasha speaks softly.

Demitar is wordless as he does. His stomach still feels horrible, twisting and turning in ways not even his anxiety can amount to.

His breathing is shaky pants, trying to breathe again but just missing the mark. Until one breath in is cut short, held in his throat before a sickly belch tears up his throat and into the mess in the sink.

The first one is dry, just leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. But another one, and a torrent of vomit comes back up in such a forced rush it splashes against the sides of the sink and even gets on his sleeves.

Another violent wave tears up his throat, causing his body to all but collapse downward.

Sasha grabs his shoulders, keeping him from face planting into the chunky liquid mess in the sink.

“God you poor thing… was it something you ate?” Sasha asked softly, his answer coming in the response of another violent, but less productive, retch.

Gradually, Demitar declined from violent abundant waves of half digested food, to dry heaving that just ripped his throat.

Sasha pat his back, almost like burping a baby, just in case any more needed to come up. Beneath his hand he can feel Demitar’s breathing grow almost panicked, slowly but surely increasing.

“No, no baby. Easy, easy.” Sasha hushed gently “Let me get you some water, just breathe. You’re alright. You’re not in trouble.”

Demitar only does what Sasha says. Most of it. He tries to breathe, but he reached up to turn on the water to rinse out the vile mess.

Sasha disappears a moment to clean up, cleaning the couch and tossing the blanket to get washed, grabbing another blanket from Demitar’s room and putting it on the couch, figuring that’s where Demitar will want to go.

Sasha comes to Demitar as the fading blonde male burps up a final wave of pure liquid.

“We’ll test you on water. Then we’ll see about ginger ale okay?” Sasha asked softly “Do you want to go back on the couch? Or do you want to be in bed?”

“I… I don’t think I… can make it that far…” Demitar speaks shakily, running a hand through his hair.

“That’s okay baby.” Sasha said “Let’s get you laying down…”

Demitar nodded slowly, letting Sasha help him to his feet. Sudden dizziness from how much he vomited knocked him into Sasha’s chest.

“Woah, easy.” Sasha says, setting the cup on the countertop before getting a better hold on Demitar “Alright short ass, hang on.”

Sasha was quick to bend down somewhat, wrapping his arms around Demitar’s legs and picking him up. He moved slow, laying Demitar back on the couch.

Demitar moaned softly, rolling onto his side and wrapping an arm around his still slightly uneasy stomach.

Sasha went back to the kitchen, grabbing a bucket from under the sink and the water cup, before going back into the living room.

“Sit up, okay baby…” Sasha spoke gently, slipping a hand under Demitar’s shoulder.

Demitar sat up slowly, taking the cup from Sasha and putting it to his lips. He was slow and only managed a few small sips before he didn’t want to push it any more. He set the cup on the side table, laying down.

Sasha pulled the new blanket off where he draped it, covering Demitar with. He placed a hand on Demitar’s cheek, brushing his thumb along his cheekbone.

“I think you got food poisoning again…” Sasha said softly “Sleep. That’s what’s going to be best for you right now…”

“Stay with me?” Demitar asked

Sasha nodded slowly “Sit up a second?”

Demitar nodded slowly and did so. Sasha sat down on the couch where Demitar was laying, before easing Demitar into his lap

“There. Now rest…”

[quentinblack]

Smoke and Mirrors, Chapter 17: Percy II - Absinthe (link to full story on FF.net) 

Featuring: Percy Weasley, Dedalus Diggle

Word Count: 5,000 words

“You should’ve picked up one of these doughnut-cone ice-creams, Perce,” Dedalus chirped merrily, as he took another big bite out of the remnants of his cone, which had been lavished in both sugar and melted chocolate. “Absolutely marvellous, this is!”

Percy saw that Diggle’s chin was absolutely covered with chocolate. He sincerely hoped the small wizard would clean himself up before long, as by his own calculations of the map he was reading they were not that far from Franz Kafka Square, which was where they were meeting their very first prospective recruit.

He had mercilessly studied Monika Svoboda’s file.

She was in her late twenties.

Her Czechoslovakian muggle parents had left their home country in the late 1960’s, presumably for brighter economic prospects in Britain.

Not much longer than a decade later and their daughter, born with the gift of magic, had set off to harness that gift at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Miss Svoboda’s academic record was nothing short of exemplary.

Her incredible grades dictated that that she was almost certainly a Ravenclaw.

She had been taken on by the Ministry very soon after graduating.

In just eight short years she had very quickly risen to a very respectable post in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, but then she had left quite abruptly, opting to take a senior post in the Czech Ministry instead just a few years before it all kicked off in Britain.  

It was Dedalus and Percy’s role and responsibility to convince Monika Svoboda to come back home and help rebuild the British Ministry to its past glory.

Percy was quietly optimistic that they should be able to manage it, after all he felt he was of a similar age to this woman and that they may very well have a few things in common.

She had been Head Girl, he had been Head Boy.

They had both left school and immediately taken up positions in the Ministry.

They were clearly both very intelligent and ambitious.  

Yes, he was quite confident that he could talk her around, very confident indeed.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had given him some discretion and flexibility around the sort of contracts he could sign for the prospective recruits, with vague outlines of the sort of job roles that they were recruiting for.

Percy felt sure that he could come to some kind of agreeable arrangement with Monika, then he and Dedalus would be off on their travels again to convince the next one and then the next one after that.

Easy.

Although they did have quite a daunting travel itinerary sketched out for the next few weeks.

After the Czech Republic they would move on to Denmark, Sweden and Greece, then onto Italy and Malta to conclude their European trip, before heading further afield to Turkey, Pakistan and India. They had business in Thailand too, before they travelled to North America to conclude their trip with a layover in Canada and then finally the one Percy was really looking forward to – The United States of America.

There was quite a few people they had to meet with in America who had left to work for the MACUSA, but Percy was only truly interested in seeing Penelope again.

The thought of rekindling his romance with Penelope Clearwater had been the driving factor in agreeing to this mission in the first place – and it seemed quite fitting that they were saving the best for last.

He could hardly wait to convince her to come back home to Britain and the Ministry.

They could make up for lost time.

Maybe he would ask her to move in with him.

Yes, that would be splendid.

That would be absolutely-

“Is this us, young Perce?” Dedalus asked rather eccentrically, as Percy was rudely dragged out of his daydream. He was at least pleased to see that Diggle had wiped his face clean of the very sickly looking chocolate that had dirtied it just moments ago.

The building was sign-posted in a foreign looking language, possibly French rather than Czech, but it was unmistakably the right place. The two of them crossed over to the other side of the road on the cobblestoned street in Prague’s old-town district.  

“Absintherie” read the yellow writing on the turquoise painted sign. The windows facing into the bar had a slightly tinted green look to them and there was an old-fashioned bright green bicycle resting against the wall.  

“What is an Absintherie when it’s at home anyway, then?” Diggle enquired with a puzzled look awash his pasty-white face.

“I don’t know, Dedalus,” Percy replied calmly as he pulled open the green wooden door. “But I imagine it is some kind of-

Percy was stopped mid-sentence by the sudden burst of an intense, warm medicinal smell emitting from the place that was almost certainly a very strong type of spirit alcohol.

“Blimmin’ ‘Eck,” Dedalus muttered under his breath.

“She said she would be upstairs,” Percy stated, attempting to take his mind off of the awful smell as he motioned for Diggle to follow him up the wooden staircase.

The upstairs of the bar was deserted, save for a lone table in the far corner, wherein sat a woman with dark-blonde hair and three small glasses of green liquid.

“Miss Svoboda?” Percy enquired politely, as the woman looked towards them and smiled, indicating for them to come and join her.

“Please, call me Monika,” she instructed softly, as she retrieved an ash-tray then lit a cigarette and began to smoke. She motioned to Percy and Dedalus as if to offer them both one too, but they both politely declined.

Dedalus had seemed to momentarily consider taking her up on the offer, but he perhaps changed his mind upon the split-second look of disapproval that Percy had shot in his direction.

However, it had to be said that they were on first name terms already and she’d offered them both a cigarette and got a round of drinks in.

She must be keen.

It was going well.

Percy knew all along that this was going to be a walk in the park.

It had never been in doubt.  

“You must be Mister Weasley and Mister Diggle,” she added, as the two wizards took their seats.

“And these must be our drinks,” Dedalus commented in a very concerned fashion, studying his small glass of green alcohol, which had only two small cubes of ice for company.

“I do not usually drink alcohol as strong as Absinthe,” Monika began, as Percy noticed her piercing blue eyes, which were making quite intense eye-contact with his on a seemingly intermittent basis. “But, as it is the Ministry paying I felt I should make the most of it.”

Dedalus laughed very loudly.

“A lady of my own heart,” he added when he had regained his composure.

Svoboda had bought the drinks under the impression that they would pick up the tab for her. They would of course, but still, she had some nerve and confidence.

Percy in a strange sort of way kind of liked that and thought it was another promising sign.  

Monika then raised her glass.

Percy and Dedalus followed her lead and raised theirs too.

“I am free and that is why I am lost,” Monika said in a quite dramatic fashion, before taking a large swig from her glass.

Percy wondered who it was that had said that.

It sounded like the sort of ostentatious speech closer that a tipsy Albus Dumbledore would trot out before a Christmas feast.

It was not lost on Percy that she had showed no signs of grimacing after the alcohol had hit the back of her throat, which perhaps led both he and Dedalus into a false sense of security over the strength of the alcohol they were about to drink.

“I am free and that is why I am lost,” Percy repeated, chinking glasses with Dedalus as they shared a bemused look before they both took large gulps from their glasses.

The absinthe hit the back of Percy’s throat and he had to bite his cheeks immediately to avoid projectile vomiting right there and then.

It was the strongest and most repulsive thing he had ever drank.

He was determined not to chuck it up though, as he was there in a professional capacity and if he threw it up he may look weak to Monika, who had not flinched in the slightest when drinking hers.

“Merlin’s cock,” Dedalus swore, as he began coughing violently, perhaps not possessing the same ability or motivation to keep it down.

“If you’ll pardon me for just one momen-

Percy watched on in absolute horror as Diggle made an immediate beeline for the men’s toilet, which thankfully happened to be stationed not too far away from their table.

“I’m awfully sorry for my colleague’s-

“I am not offended, Mister Weasley,” Monika began, as she took another thick drag of what Percy’s Mother had always called muggle death-sticks whenever she had caught his older brother Bill smoking one.

“Please, Monika, call me Percy.”

“Very well,” she smiled, as she delicately tapped her cigarette to rid it off the excess ash.

Perhaps all was not lost after all.

She was still smiling.

There was a slight twinkle in her eyes now, as if she was deep in thought and about to say something very profound.

Percy wondered if the alcohol had gone straight to her head, or maybe it had just gone straight to his, but for a split second he felt there was a slight wave of sexual tension between them.

In an hour’s time they could probably look back and laugh at Dedalus chundering as Monika happily signed her contract to come back and work for the Ministry.

“I am not offended by your colleague’s weak stomach, Percy. But I am offended by the Ministry’s arrogant attempt to rehire me.”

Percy was dumbstruck.

“I- I-

“I hold no ill-will to you and your colleague, Percy. You are just doing as you have been instructed to do, as I would have done once upon a time. But you must understand the arrogance that the Ministry is operating under. The letter I was sent regarding this meeting. It was not sent to my home address. It was sent to my office address. Do you not think the inbound international postal workers talk? It’s not every day they receive a letter from the British Ministry for Magic.”

“I’m- I’m sure that was purely due to logistical reasons. We would not have known your personal address, so the only option was to-

Percy stopped briefly as they overheard Dedalus loudly puking up his goulash lunch and ice-cream dessert through the thin wooden walls.

He felt incredibly awkward as he watched Monika roll her eyes as she breathed out some smoke, which lingered in the air for a while.

The mixture of the smell of absinthe and tobacco fumes really was quite odd and not one that Percy found particularly pleasant.  

“The only option was to allow me to have to face the embarrassment of my employers questioning my commitment to them? To let my bosses think that as soon as the war in Britain was over I was looking to pack my bags and go home?”

Monika’s tone had very much changed into one of condescension and indignation.

“Do you know why my parents first left Czechoslovakia?” Svododa asked him calmly.

“Well, I can’t say for sure, but I assume for some kind of economic reasons,” he replied reasonably confidently, as they heard Diggle vomit once more.

Svoboda laughed softly in a patronising manner.

“Of course, you can only think in economic terms, Percy. A wizard like you has never truly known what it feels like to be persecuted,”

Percy felt very offended, but thought it best to remain silent.

“My parents left Czechoslovakia when the Soviet Union invaded in 1968 so it could become a satellite state once more. They left their country with nothing for a better life. For a life without suppression. For a life without conflict. Do you know much of the Soviet Union and their brand of Communism?”

Percy shook his head blankly.

“My father used to repeat a saying that best described what his life was like growing up under communism…he used to say - sometimes there was no toilet paper in the shops, luckily there was not much food in them either.”

Svoboda took another sizeable swig of her absinthe once she had discarded the remains of her cigarette into the ash-tray, leaving perhaps only a mouthful or two remaining in her glass, which had warmed up sufficiently so that one may never have guessed that several ice cubes had once inhabited it.

“He and my Mother found peace and prosperity in England. Lots of food, lots of toilet paper too. They had a daughter, who one day turned out to be a witch. A slight hiccup in their plans, but they had the comfort of their own home and more importantly they were living in a peaceful country free of war, conflict and communism.”

The young witch then took another sip of her drink, before looking down disapprovingly at Percy’s glass that was still half-full.

“They thought they had left war behind them, but little did they know that the magical world that their daughter had thought so wonderful and exciting would be filled with more war than they could ever imagine. I spent my first two years at Hogwarts reading headline after headline of murder after murder. I did not dare tell my parents when they sent me letters asking how everything was going, after all, they were so proud of me. If only they knew what I had unwittingly signed myself up for.”

Percy shifted slightly in his seat, but he had no real argument to mount against her, perhaps she had only agreed to this meeting in the first place to vent her frustrations at someone.

“They told me that The Boy Who Lived had vanquished He Who Could Not Be Named, but he did not. Soon enough, the murders began again. The dark times returned. Tell me, Percy, have you ever read any of Franz Kafka’s work?”

He had no idea who Franz Kafka was, but for the street to have been named after him Percy had assumed he had been a muggle politician or a king.

“No,” he answered honestly. “But if I could just maybe tell you about what fantastic opportunities the Ministry has to offer a woman of your incredible talents and-

“Kafka was born right here in Prague. He didn’t like it much… he didn’t like much of anything, really. The majority of his work was dark and depressing. The stories he wrote were often set in horrific places, filled with fear, corruption and misery. He may as well have been describing what it was like to be a muggle-born in Wizarding Britain during the last few decades.”

Percy could see now that this was well and truly beyond a lost cause, but his professional pride meant that he could not give up on Svoboda without at least one more roll of the die.

“It’s different now!” Percy pleaded. “The dark times are over. You Know Who is gone, for good this time. Harry Potter made sure of that, I saw it myself. I was there. We can forge a new future, one that is free from fear, corruption and misery – but the Ministry needs people, good people, talented people like you, Monika.”

“I do not doubt that you believe that, Percy, but come on, get real! The dark times are over? Do you think that we abroad are not aware that you still have six Death Eaters on the loose? They say that ignorance is bliss, but they are wrong. Those who are ignorant naturally consider that everything is possible.”

Percy could not tell for sure, but he believed from her poetic tone of voice that she was quoting that Kafka fellow again.

She was most definitely a Ravenclaw.

“Wizarding society in Britain is not built for change, Percy. The very foundations of its design is to keep things the same. The-

“It will be different this time,” he relented. “It is different this time. The new Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, he is different he is-

“Another pure-blood Minister, is it then? Quelle fucking surprise. He may well have good intentions, but the same mistakes will be made once again, Percy. You are blind if you cannot see it. Tell me, will there still be the same four houses at Hogwarts in the coming school year?”

“Well, yes, of course!” Percy answered indignantly.

“Your reaction is exactly what I’m talking about, Percy. You cannot possibly even conceive of the idea that say for instance, Slytherin house… the very house from which your new… oh so different Minister for Magic was once a Head Boy for… was to be… terminated.”

“Well- well that’s impossib-

“A school which explicitly groups together the most prejudiced members of its society, based on the hiring preferences of a prejudiced ancient wizard who should be doomed to the history books, not held up on a pedestal for young, impressionable children to chant his name and wear his colours.”

Percy didn’t really have an answer.

He was left speechless once again.

It was perfectly clear how Svoboda had flourished so well in the Ministry. She was an excellent orator, clearly extremely intelligent and didn’t give you a word in edgeways, yet still remained very polite in the process.

It was incredibly frustrating as Percy knew he could not win a debate with this woman. She was running absolute rings around him. He almost wished Dedalus would return from the toilet to help back him up.

“In muggle schools in Prague they do not have a house that honours Josef Stalin. They do not wave red flags with gold hammers and sickles on them. In Berlin they do not have school houses honouring Hitler or the Nazis. They do not hang swastikas on the walls or chant Nazi songs at school football matches. Slytherin house remains at Hogwarts because of what, tradition?”

“No- no. Well, yes. But it’s not that simple, Monika. You must understand. I saw you were Head Girl once. I was Head Boy. You must know that the tradition of Hog-

“I know that when I was chosen to be Head Girl I was the first muggle-born Head Boy or Girl for a quarter of a century,” she fumed.

“Almost every other family name that fell before mine in the record books belonged to the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Well, do you know what I say, Percy? Fuck the Sacred Twenty-Eight!”

Percy desperately tried to think of a rebuffal to her point, but he was taken aback by her sudden swearing. He felt very flustered and straightened his shirt a little as he felt himself begin to sweat nervously.

The men’s toilet door suddenly flung open and a rather refreshed looking Dedalus Diggle emerged from it, momentarily distracting Percy from his train of thought.

“Well then, what have I missed?” Diggle squeaked as he looked from Percy to Monika in slight confusion.

“Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it,” Monika murmured as she finished the last slithers of her drink and stood up. “I was once much like you, Percy. I once held the establishment and tradition on a pedestal… well here’s a piece of advice for you, as well as my answer to your new Minister. Fuck your prejudice… fuck your traditions… and fuck your Ministry!”

Monika Svoboda abruptly fled the table, departed down the stairs and they did not see her again.

“Hmph,” Dedalus muttered. “Not the best of starts for you then, ehh, Perce?”

“I need a drink,” Percy mused. “Something pretty strong…but not that strong,” he added, as both he and Diggle shied away from seeing off their Absinthe.

“You know what you want, Perce? A nice cuppa tea,” Dedalus remarked in his ever boisterous manner.

“Yes, I think that would be perfect,” Percy replied, as he glumly made his way down the stairs.

Dedalus calmly strolled towards the bar to settle their tab with the muggle credit card that Kingsley had supplied them with.

Percy thought he had seen some of Penelope in Monika.

The thought that she may show a similar sense of resolve and reject him too filled his heart with the sort of misery and despair that Monika had described as being present in those Kafka stories.

“We’d… like… to go… somewhere… where… we can… get some… tea…tea…yes, tea! Tea!” he heard Dedalus loudly explaining to the Czech bar-keep in the sort of accent one only makes when speaking to someone whose first language is not English.

“Excellent!” Dedalus remarked.

“He says we can get some tea not far from here, Perce. Follow me. We take the first left and then it’s the forth building down.”

Percy slowly followed his companion across the cobblestoned street as a sense of sombre overcame him.

The meeting with Monika really had been an unmitigated disaster of the highest order.

He really could kill for a nice mug of piping hot tea, just like his Mother would make.

The thought of his Mother made him suddenly feel awfully homesick, which was ridiculous as he’d only been gone for a few days.

He had to pull himself together for Kingsley and for Penelope and perhaps more importantly for himself.

It was all going to be fine.

Monika was just a one off.

The others would all want to come back.

“Here we are, Perce. Looks like a nice quiet café, bet we’ll get a splendid cup of tea in here. That’ll make you feel better.”

Percy agreed with Diggle and followed him through the front door of the fancy looking establishment, upon which they were greeted by a quite large bald headed muggle-man who appeared to be some kind of security guard.

“You pay two hundred and fifty koruna entry each, but you get one free drink inside,” he said in a deep voice with a very thick accent, which Percy assumed must be Czech.

“Seems reasonable,” Dedalus quipped. “Here you are my friend,” he added as he presented the doorman with the money, who happily let them through following this exchange.

As they reached the bottom of the spiral staircase they discovered that the café was very dark and dingy, but it did at least seem to possess some quite comfortable looking sofas.

The ambience itself was not particularly relaxation orientated though, as the speakers within the place were playing some rather flamboyant muggle rock music quite loudly.

POUR SOME SUGAR ON ME

OOH, IN THE NAME OF LOVE

POUR SOME SUGAR ON ME

C’MON, FIRE ME UP

“Might as well get those free drinks,” Dedalus said in a raised voice so as to be heard over the noise.  Percy nodded at him and followed the little wizard to the bar.

Percy thought that the woman serving at the bar was rather scantily dressed for this time of day, but at first he put it down to muggle fashion and culture that he perhaps did not understand.

“Two cups of tea, please! What? You don’t sell- I would like two cups of tea, please!” Dedalus squeaked at the woman serving over the loud muggle-music.

POUR YOUR SUGAR ON ME

I CAN’T GET ENOUGH

I’M HOT, STICKY SWEET

FROM MY HEAD TO MY FEET, YEAH

“She reckons they don’t serve any hot drinks!” a very disappointed Dedalus yelled up into Percy’s ear. “The chap at the Absintherie said it was a Tea Bar!”

That was when Percy first noticed the giant neon sign that was lighting up the opposite corner of the room.

It read “TITTY BAR”.

Percy did not quite grasp what this referred to at first, having never before encountered the muggle slang-term of “titty”, but upon further inspection towards the other side of the room it soon became quite apparent what it was that it referred to.

He felt another sudden flurry of home-sickness again as he wished with all of his heart that George was here to see this.

It would certainly bring a huge grin to a face that so seldom did smile these days.

Percy would never live it down once George found out about this.

“MERLIN’S BEARD!” an utterly astounded Dedalus exclaimed, as he suddenly noticed the topless muggle women dancing on the stage.

[i-am-too-sick]

Here’s another collab, this time with @nerdlycharming! We both had similar requests for sick Leo and Nico aboard the Argo II, so we killed two birds with one stone.

“Valdez, I’m going to murder you.”

Normally such a threat didn’t bother him, he’d heard it many times before, but this time it frightened him as it was issued from the son of Hades.

“He won’t really.” Hazel promised.

Nico had been found on deck by Hazel, his body swaying like a gentle breeze. Hazel couldn’t ignore how pale he looked, how tired and haggard. At first she attributed his appearance to merely motion sickness, something she could relate to all too well, but when his attitude seemed surlier than usual when she so much as asked him what was wrong, she realized this had to be something else.

It took a deft hand and her quick reflexes to lay her hand against Nico’s forehead, her brother’s skin unnervingly warm beneath her palm. With his cover blown, Nico seemed to wilt under the pressure of illness and allowed himself to be taken down to sick bay, leaning half of his weight on Hazel’s shoulder.

“This is all your fault,” Nico snapped at Leo as Hazel lowered him onto the nearest cot. His voice held no venom, and he pinched his eyes shut and waited out a spell of dizziness.

“There aren’t enough cots in here for the whole crew to get sick, I hope it stops with us.” Leo was uncharacteristically quiet and reserved which was exactly how he had been found out. Frank had been the one to point it out as Leo hadn’t teased him when he dropped his plate after Nico suddenly spoke next to him. He didn’t have the energy to talk much and the fever was making his quick witted mind sluggish and fuzzy, he hated being sick.

“It should have stopped with you,” Nico said. He shuddered violently as a chill coursed through him. He hated being sick. “I can’t believe you got me sick too.”

Nico turned to Hazel, nodding as a quiet show of thanks for helping him down to sick bay when his legs had proved too wobbly to support him on his own. “You shouldn’t stay down here,” he said to Hazel. “We’ll be fine—I’m probably going to sleep this off.”

Leo chuckled, “Awww that’s cute, big brother Nico being all protective.” He was, of course, being sarcastic and annoying as he could as he always was.

Immediately after his comment though he fell into a string of sharp, painful sounding coughs that left his head spinning and his stomach twice as upset as before. He winced holding both his stomach and his head attempting to calm the dizzying effect of the coughing fit.

Nico frowned, glancing over at Leo. “You sound really bad,” he said. If that was in his future, he was not looking forward to it. So far all that was really bothering him was a vague sense of queasiness and a heavy feeling of malaise. He didn’t know if this was the flu or something else, but he did know he was ready for a nap to get rid of this funk he was in. “Are you okay?” he added, seeing the look of pain flash across Leo’s face.

“Fine.” He lied quickly, trying to mean what he said. He had already thrown up twice today and no desire to make it a third but the way his stomach was tossing and flopping he didn’t hold out much hope. He felt worse than he did on long car rides. “Ugh… I think I’m going to be sick again.” He finally admitted as he could feel both the children of the Underworld watching him with an intense scrutiny.

It was at that utterance that Hazel made a hasty retreat, bidding the boys her well wishes and climbing up on deck, promising to come check on them later. Nico knew she was squeamish, and he was too to an extent—he had no desire to sit and listen to Leo vomit.

He really just wanted to sit and rest, but seeing the look on Leo’s face, he forced himself off the cot, stumbling around the ship for a bucket or something. “Just—uh, hold on. I’ll find something—” When Nico’s shoulders hitched with a nauseous hiccup, he froze, his stomach even more unsettled after moving around.

“You don’t look so good.” Leo noted sounding just as queasy. He got up to grab the buckets from the cabinet since he actually knew where they were. He had personally stocked the sick bay with the help of a certain head councillor of Apollo cabin.

He made his way over to the cabinets, hunched over and hugging his middle. He grabbed two of the pink disposable bins, the same kind they have at hospitals. “Here.” He said handing one to Nico. He started making his way back to his cot, hoping he could hold it in until he could at least sit down.

Nico took the emesis bin with trembling fingers, his stomach roiling at the very thought of having to use it. He swallowed back a splash of acid as his stomach gave a nauseous flip, cursing his very existence.

He made it back to his cot with little incidence, his hand pressed firmly against his mouth. He felt so sick all of a sudden and just wanted the nausea to go away. Opting to set the emesis bin on the bed rather than climbing up himself, Nico hung his head over the basin. Without much warning, he gagged wetly, strings of saliva falling past his lips. Despite that, he was determined to keep his stomach where it belonged.

Leo had only just made it back to his cot and gotten settled when Nico gagged. That was all the encouragement his stomach needed to vacate. He pitched forward over the bin and gagged roughly bringing up only the excess saliva in his mouth, but his stomach was fully upset now and he was not done. He gagged again this time bringing up a small flood of what was once his stomach contents, sending it noisily into the bin.

The sound of Leo vomiting sent a chill up Nico’s spine—or maybe that was just the fever. He wanted to slap his hands over his ears to block out the repeated retching, but that would mean moving his hand from his mouth, and that seemed to be the only thing holding in his own flood of sick.

He swallowed again, breathing shallowly through his nose. He let out a low whine as his stomach burbled protestingly, a thick belch bubbling its way up his esophagus. Nico was halfway through uttering a curse, before he was drowning in a rush of bitter saliva, a wave of vomit forcing his way up and out. Catching a glimpse in front of him, the whole of his cot was not spared, and he cringed at the sight, before another round of sick spurted from his mouth.

Leo wasn’t the squeamish type, not to mention he’d seen of kids sick loads of times in the foster homes before he would run away again. He was finished being sick so he had just looked over when Nico projectile vomited all over his cot, he couldn’t help the slightly disgusted sound he made. “Dude, that’s nasty.”

Nico needed help cleaning that up but it had taken so much effort just to get the buckets Leo doubted he could help him. They needed someone else to come down here and help them.

Nico was breathless by the time he was finished, but that didn’t stop him from piercing Leo with a halfhearted glare. “I didn’t do it on purpose,” he said, hiccuping.

His stomach was sore and he really just wanted to lie down, but with his cot in the shape it was in, he wasn’t going to be able to get comfortable anytime soon. “Are there any towels are or anything down here?” he asked, wiping the sick from his lips with the back of his hand.

Leo couldn’t help it, he chuckled deliriously. “I’m sure you didn’t.” He looked around the room trying to think, getting more and more frustrated by the fact he couldn’t come up with an answer. This fever was really getting to him and he really didn’t like it.

He set his bucket on his bedside table with a weak, shaky hand. “I think so but I don’t know where… over there somewhere I think…” he pointed vaguely over towards a set of cabinets. He looked exhausted and like he might keel over in his bed at any moment - which is pretty much how he felt.

“I think we need to have someone come down here and help…” even in his slightly delirious state he noticed that Nico could barely keep himself up, there was no way he was going to be able to clean up after himself, he’d probably pass out trying.

Nico groaned, too tired to move. Still, just looking at the mess in front of him was enough to make his nausea begin to swell and he swallowed again disgustedly.

Footsteps could be heard coming their way, before a voice sounded out of view. “Is everything okay down here? I heard…noises…” Jason appeared in the doorway, his words trailing off at the sight before him. “Oh my gods, you guys.”

Leo didn’t think he’d ever been so happy to see the son of Jupiter. The thought of having to get up and help Nico clean his vomit soaked cot was making his stomach churn again. Or maybe he really needed to be sick again?

He grabbed his already half full emesis bin and prepared for round four which was way too close to round three in his opinion.

Jason went over and started stripping Nico’s bed, keeping his face gratefully neutral. He found a towel in one of the cabinets and tossed it in Nico’s direction, the son of Hades wiping his chin and hands. He felt marginally better after emptying his stomach.

“Jeez guys, why didn’t you call for help sooner?” Jason asked. “Hey, Valdez, do you have a mop around here?”

Nico climbed up on the now bare cot, arm draped loosely over his stomach, his emesis bin abandoned off to the side. He felt a prickly heat along his cheeks and back of his neck, a product of his still-present fever.

Leo silently pointed to a cabinet next to the door frame. He was positioned over his bin starting at it’s contents hoping just to get the experience over with.

He didn’t like vomiting but he liked waiting to vomit even less. He pitched forward with a sudden gag - bringing up only a small mouthful of bile into the bin. A shudder ran up and down his spin. “This sucks.” He slurred.

Jason grabbed the mop and set to work on the floor, cringing slightly as Leo vomited into the bin. “I can’t believe you’re still doing that,” he murmured to his friend. “You’re gonna get dehydrated.”

Nico brought his knees to his chest, pillowing his chin on top of his arms. He closed his eyes and let out a miserable sigh. He wasn’t sick often, but that didn’t change how he felt about it; he absolutely hated it.

“Believe me, I’d stop throwing up if I could.” Leo told him in a slightly whiny tone. He was shivering from head to toe as he sat cross legged on his cot.

He looked positively miserable, things didn’t look good for what Nico had in store for him. Day 2 of illness looked even worse than day 1.

Nico was already starting to doze off when Jason tapped him on the shoulder. “Bed’s clean, so is the floor.” He handed Nico a blanket, chuckling lightly as the son of Hades took and immediately curled into his side, before handing another one to Leo. “You guys should get some rest while you can.”

Leo didn’t need to be told twice, he took the blanket from Jason and handed him the bucket. He was too out of it to really realize how disgusting that was. He wrapped it around himself and continued to shiver. “M'still cold!” He whined pulling the blanket closer to himself.

Jason pulled a face, by took the bin from Leo, setting it aside. Glancing over at Nico, he noticed that the son of Hades had his eyes closed, his brow furrowed in discomfort. He lowered his voice, “Dude, Nico’s already hates that you got him sick, but wake him up and you’re a dead man.”

With that expert advice, Jason put everything away, returning to Leo’s bedside with a fresh emesis bin should he need it. After that, he told Leo he needed to get back on deck, that he and Percy were going to meet up to decide their next plan of attack.

Leo looked frightened at such an idea. He rolled over and cocooned himself in his blankets, trying to force himself to go to sleep. He certainly hoped he would feel better the next time he woke up.

[brites]

Could I get the entire Shiratorizawa team sick? I love mass Illnesses and your blog~

[attredd]

The leader of Florida’s biggest sham “church” network peddling bleach as a miracle drug says he’s camped out in Colombia while his sons face arrest for allegedly selling a fake COVID-19 cure and threatening a judge with a “Waco”-style standoff.For years, the Genesis II Church of Health and Healing has been at the center of a lucrative, world-wide network that claims—falsely—that drinking glorified Clorox can cure you of virtually any illness. The “church” (which is not religious, by its own admission) has raked in the cash promoting “Miracle Mineral Solution,” a bleach solution first popularized in 2006 by an ex-Scientologist who claimed to be an alien god. Ludicrous as the scheme sounds, it’s seen a recent surge in visibility, gaining endorsements from conspiracy theorists and well-known conservatives. Now, four members of the family behind Genesis II are facing criminal charges for allegedly flouting an order to stop marketing MMS as a COVID-19 cure. Two have been arrested, while the family patriarch says he’s out of the country.Genesis II isn’t a real church. You can’t worship at a physical location, and its leader, “Archbishop” Mark Grenon, is not actually ordained. Instead, it’s a network of people peddling sodium chlorite, a bleach compound that the Food and Drug Administration warned in 2019 “can cause nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, and symptoms of severe dehydration.” Nevertheless, Genesis II has thrived in recent years. The church’s founder, Jim Humble, is a former Scientologist who claims to be a billion-year-old space god from another galaxy. Humble worked with Genesis II for years, before appearing to back away from the church after an ABC News investigation. QAnon-ers’ Magic Cure for Coronavirus: Just Drink Bleach!"There are certainly times I have said some things that I probably should have said differently,” he wrote in a 2016 blog post. “For lack of a better way to express things at the time— or because others put words in my mouth, in the past I have stated that MMS cures most of all diseases. Today, I say that MMS cures nothing!"The revelation didn’t stop Mark Grenon and his sons Joseph, Jordan, and Jonathan from peddling bleach. The family and their “church” raked it in for years, media investigations and criminal charges show. In one investigation, an undercover news crew attended one of Grenon’s $450 MMS seminars in a California hotel. There, Grenon hinted at the church’s lack of real religious convictions.“Everybody start a church and do it from there. You can sell them anything! Tell them Jesus heals you while you drink this,” Grenon said.Federal investigators apparently pursued those claims as the basis of a fraud charge. In a February 2020 interview, cited in the criminal complaint, Grenon told investigators he’d started a church in order to sell MMS.“Everything you do commercially is under the Universal Commercial code, okay?” Grenon said, according to the complaint. “A church is completely separate from that code, statutes, and laws. That’s why a priest can give a kid wine in church publicly and not get arrested. Because it’s a sacrament.[…] I knew this because . . . they tried to arrest us for proclaiming stuff on the street in Boston. They threw it out of court because we’re a church. You can’t arrest us from doing one of our sacraments, and I knew this. So that’s why . . . I said let’s do a church. We could have done temple. We could have done synagogue. We could have done mosque.” “So [the founding of Genesis] wasn’t really about religion?” the investigator asked. “It was in order to – to in a way, legalize the use of MMS?”“Right,” Grenon replied. “It wasn’t at all religious.” (On its website, Genesis II claims to be “non-religious but spiritual.”)Although the criminal complaint indicates Genesis II and the Grenons were under investigation by at least October 2019 (when they allegedly gave an undercover FDA investigator terrible cancer treatment advice), federal scrutiny on the church intensified when it started promoting MMS as a coronavirus cure. The FDA sent Genesis II an injunction, telling them to please stop doing that. But the church allegedly continued, advertising “testimonials” that promoted potentially virus-spreading activity. One reviewer, featured in a Genesis II newsletter, claimed to have “traveled to the Philippines and had to pass through Seoul, Korea and Tokyo, Japan airports where just about everyone was wearing the masks for coronavirus. We had no fear (and no masks) because we had MMS protection. We are back home and everyone is still healthy.”The Grenons also allegedly made violent threats against the judge who signed the injunction. In an April podcast, Mark Grenon and his son Joseph stated that they would not obey the restraining order.“You’ve got the 2nd [Amendment]. Right? When Congress does immoral things, passes immoral laws, that’s when you pick up guns, right?,” one said. “You want a Waco? Do they want a Waco?” In a later podcast, Grenon accused the judge of “treason,” and in a third podcast warned that the judge “could be taken out.”Grenon and his three sons were charged with “conspiracy to defraud the United States, conspiracy to violate the Federal Food, Drug and Cosmetic Act, and criminal contempt.” Their Bradenton, Florida headquarters were raided on Wednesday, and Jordan and Johnathan arrested. It was not immediately clear whether either had lawyers.Mark Grenon, meanwhile, was at large as of Thursday morning. Genesis II has associates worldwide, particularly in Africa and South America. (Genesis II and other bleach sellers have faced particular scrutiny for giving bleach to African children.) None of the seven Genesis II chapters in the U.S., Canada, or Colombia that listed their phone numbers online answered the phone or returned The Daily Beast’s calls.In an “emergency” interview with the founder of a conspiracy theory-laden “health news” site after the raid, Grenon revealed that he was in Colombia, where he expected to be arrested and extradited.Questioned by an interviewer who called the FDA a “terrorist organization,” Grenon stuck to his old argument that Genesis II was a legitimate religious organization.“The FDA says we should stop giving our sacraments to the world. We just basically said no, we have the First Amendment,” he said. “It says we have free exercise of our religious beliefs.”Asked about his bleach’s medical validity, Grenon described MMS as “so real. I had projectile vomiting from bad sushi. I took it and within a couple of minutes, gone.”Read more at The Daily Beast.Get our top stories in your inbox every day. Sign up now!Daily Beast Membership: Beast Inside goes deeper on the stories that matter to you. Learn more.

from Yahoo News - Latest News & Headlines https://ift.tt/2DiNnNN

[newsfundastuff]

The leader of Florida’s biggest sham “church” network peddling bleach as a miracle drug says he’s camped out in Colombia while his sons face arrest for allegedly selling a fake COVID-19 cure and threatening a judge with a “Waco”-style standoff.For years, the Genesis II Church of Health and Healing has been at the center of a lucrative, world-wide network that claims—falsely—that drinking glorified Clorox can cure you of virtually any illness. The “church” (which is not religious, by its own admission) has raked in the cash promoting “Miracle Mineral Solution,” a bleach solution first popularized in 2006 by an ex-Scientologist who claimed to be an alien god. Ludicrous as the scheme sounds, it’s seen a recent surge in visibility, gaining endorsements from conspiracy theorists and well-known conservatives. Now, four members of the family behind Genesis II are facing criminal charges for allegedly flouting an order to stop marketing MMS as a COVID-19 cure. Two have been arrested, while the family patriarch says he’s out of the country.Genesis II isn’t a real church. You can’t worship at a physical location, and its leader, “Archbishop” Mark Grenon, is not actually ordained. Instead, it’s a network of people peddling sodium chlorite, a bleach compound that the Food and Drug Administration warned in 2019 “can cause nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, and symptoms of severe dehydration.” Nevertheless, Genesis II has thrived in recent years. The church’s founder, Jim Humble, is a former Scientologist who claims to be a billion-year-old space god from another galaxy. Humble worked with Genesis II for years, before appearing to back away from the church after an ABC News investigation. QAnon-ers’ Magic Cure for Coronavirus: Just Drink Bleach!"There are certainly times I have said some things that I probably should have said differently,” he wrote in a 2016 blog post. “For lack of a better way to express things at the time— or because others put words in my mouth, in the past I have stated that MMS cures most of all diseases. Today, I say that MMS cures nothing!"The revelation didn’t stop Mark Grenon and his sons Joseph, Jordan, and Jonathan from peddling bleach. The family and their “church” raked it in for years, media investigations and criminal charges show. In one investigation, an undercover news crew attended one of Grenon’s $450 MMS seminars in a California hotel. There, Grenon hinted at the church’s lack of real religious convictions.“Everybody start a church and do it from there. You can sell them anything! Tell them Jesus heals you while you drink this,” Grenon said.Federal investigators apparently pursued those claims as the basis of a fraud charge. In a February 2020 interview, cited in the criminal complaint, Grenon told investigators he’d started a church in order to sell MMS.“Everything you do commercially is under the Universal Commercial code, okay?” Grenon said, according to the complaint. “A church is completely separate from that code, statutes, and laws. That’s why a priest can give a kid wine in church publicly and not get arrested. Because it’s a sacrament.[…] I knew this because . . . they tried to arrest us for proclaiming stuff on the street in Boston. They threw it out of court because we’re a church. You can’t arrest us from doing one of our sacraments, and I knew this. So that’s why . . . I said let’s do a church. We could have done temple. We could have done synagogue. We could have done mosque.” “So [the founding of Genesis] wasn’t really about religion?” the investigator asked. “It was in order to – to in a way, legalize the use of MMS?”“Right,” Grenon replied. “It wasn’t at all religious.” (On its website, Genesis II claims to be “non-religious but spiritual.”)Although the criminal complaint indicates Genesis II and the Grenons were under investigation by at least October 2019 (when they allegedly gave an undercover FDA investigator terrible cancer treatment advice), federal scrutiny on the church intensified when it started promoting MMS as a coronavirus cure. The FDA sent Genesis II an injunction, telling them to please stop doing that. But the church allegedly continued, advertising “testimonials” that promoted potentially virus-spreading activity. One reviewer, featured in a Genesis II newsletter, claimed to have “traveled to the Philippines and had to pass through Seoul, Korea and Tokyo, Japan airports where just about everyone was wearing the masks for coronavirus. We had no fear (and no masks) because we had MMS protection. We are back home and everyone is still healthy.”The Grenons also allegedly made violent threats against the judge who signed the injunction. In an April podcast, Mark Grenon and his son Joseph stated that they would not obey the restraining order.“You’ve got the 2nd [Amendment]. Right? When Congress does immoral things, passes immoral laws, that’s when you pick up guns, right?,” one said. “You want a Waco? Do they want a Waco?” In a later podcast, Grenon accused the judge of “treason,” and in a third podcast warned that the judge “could be taken out.”Grenon and his three sons were charged with “conspiracy to defraud the United States, conspiracy to violate the Federal Food, Drug and Cosmetic Act, and criminal contempt.” Their Bradenton, Florida headquarters were raided on Wednesday, and Jordan and Johnathan arrested. It was not immediately clear whether either had lawyers.Mark Grenon, meanwhile, was at large as of Thursday morning. Genesis II has associates worldwide, particularly in Africa and South America. (Genesis II and other bleach sellers have faced particular scrutiny for giving bleach to African children.) None of the seven Genesis II chapters in the U.S., Canada, or Colombia that listed their phone numbers online answered the phone or returned The Daily Beast’s calls.In an “emergency” interview with the founder of a conspiracy theory-laden “health news” site after the raid, Grenon revealed that he was in Colombia, where he expected to be arrested and extradited.Questioned by an interviewer who called the FDA a “terrorist organization,” Grenon stuck to his old argument that Genesis II was a legitimate religious organization.“The FDA says we should stop giving our sacraments to the world. We just basically said no, we have the First Amendment,” he said. “It says we have free exercise of our religious beliefs.”Asked about his bleach’s medical validity, Grenon described MMS as “so real. I had projectile vomiting from bad sushi. I took it and within a couple of minutes, gone.”Read more at The Daily Beast.Get our top stories in your inbox every day. Sign up now!Daily Beast Membership: Beast Inside goes deeper on the stories that matter to you. Learn more.

https://ift.tt/2DiNnNN