#vague emetophobia tw?

[wannabe-eurydice]

need yall to know I saw thanksgiving (The Movie) when it came out with my dad and I started like. dry heaving during That One Scene From The Trailer but whatever i enjoyed it. so i'm sitting here. enjoying the movie. not touching my icee. wondering who the hell directed this movie.

and then as soon as we get to the credits, who's the director?

Eli Roth.

soon as i saw that name everything just Clicked. i don't even hate Roth but like it just Made Sense. of course it was him. of course. it all Made Sense because who else would have The Human Turkey. who else.

tldr Eli Roth is in my brain he is lingering in my nightmares and idk. he's there. he needs to get evicted. and he owes me another icee.

[shenenenigans]

numa and xael in alnst au being like “do you think we’re together in every universe?” but in their canon world they have

attempted to kill each other multiple times, either by their fists or with weapons

examples include choking, stabbing, biting, kicking, etc.

xael has been attempted to get eaten alive by numa multiple times

xael tried killing numa in the middle of the night by choking him (xael was having a really bad dream and numa came up to his bed so xael choked him in his sleep)

numa bit them to wake xael up btw

numa overdosed on xael’s antidepressants after he stole them

and then proceeded to fight xael afterward

he won by smashing xael’s head into the wall (yes there is a dent, they covered it with a really dumb poster)

survived a yttd/danganronpa type killing game together but ultimately ruined their relationship by getting into the worst argument of all time

literally eaten people together

xael accidentally made numa so nauseous by telling him to eat normal food which he can’t taste so numa spent hours in the bathroom alone all day

at night he did in fact try to eat xael but he was just a lil hungry

threatened each other with knives in an enclosed room after killing someone

and guns

and cannibalism threats

insulted each other many times with things the other is insecure about

nearly lost their jobs as assassins because they could not get along for months

[il3x]

Does your past self nestle inside you, like a matryoshka doll? Like tree rings? My past threw me up on the doorstep. I’m the raw wet thing that crawled out of her withering shell. She cracked in the sun and she cracked on the concrete sidewalk and there I am, bleeding, glistening. Withering. Splitting. Hunched over retching and I don’t know what's crawling out.

[tayloralisonswift]

a fun fact about me is that i get very creeped out & honestly nauseous when i see a tardigrade/water bear. i don’t experience disgust as badly as i used to before my meds but oh my god that drawing that’s going around makes me want to puke and idk why the filtering isn’t working!!!!!

[nymfaia-archive]

more timeline fun, ft. My Ship + their bb. ft. @nossumusmanus since this ship + the ship's respective verse is fairly intertwined w/ quintus living at this point, lol

alta gets pregnant around the time of Pagl'than. either before or after. she is barely a few weeks along when Endwalker happens, and is Very Thoroughly Ill in Garlemald - something she thinks is a result of the corpses and the sheer horror of what has been done to Varis and the Tempered soldiers. It's early spring by the end of MSQ, and the snow is melting, exposing corpses that had not been able to rot in the cold, the sickened aether from the Tower making her feel nauseous and ill to her bones.

It is after their first excursion into the Tower that it truly rears it's head, and she is caught outside of camp kicking snow over the rations she failed to stomach. Jullus finds her crying and upset at herself for not keeping things together. After some encouragement, she bundles her uncertainty and despair back in, knowing she had a world to save.

(she's also sick in Thavnair, but - as she was sick from using the Aetheryte to travel there - she assumes it's just that, along with exhaustion and nerves.)

After the end of the main MSQ, Alta is quarantined in Sharlay for multiple, multiple weeks. She's still sick and she needs physical therapy and time to heal from her wounds. I think someone in Sharlay probably tried to tell her what state she was in, but she was convinced her injuries and her light aether corruption from Shadowbringers would cause the pregnancy to be a fluke. Out of fear of being known and having been cooped up for too long, she swiftly left after that to go aid the realm. By the time she leaves, she's just shy of three months along.

She visits Thavnair first, subsisting almost exclusively on mint lassi to keep her from getting too sick on the palace's tiles. Vrtra pegs her and her coalescing aether almost immediately and does his best to respect her hostility, and Alta flees to the undersea vault with her former Scion allies before the greatwyrm can truly guilt her about it. (Unfortunately for her, Y'shtola's aether sight knows it just as well. Fortunately for her, she says little and less beyond a veiled tease that the Warrior of Light entirely does not get.)

As soon as she ties up that loose end, Alta returns back to Garlemald. Her illness has gotten better, but is still off and on depending on what she's doing. A few days into the stay, she learns about Quintus' lover and their state, and both her and Jullus make an attempt to gather supplies from a deserted medical clinic. They bring back a mobile ultrasound machine, medicines, and vitamins, stopping by Tertium for a rest. They find a retired nurse there who is able to show Alta that she was still with child - and closer now to four than three months along. With Jullus, she traverses back to Camp Broken Glass to retrieve Quintus and Nerva and returns back to Terncliff that same evening.

Alta is in Terncliff for less than one moon. She dances around telling him the truth, and finally does one evening when she thinks he's fallen asleep beside her, whispering the news in his ears as if testing words on for size. By the time he fully awakens in the late morning, she's already long gone - but he knows what he heard was not a mere dream.

She doesn't return to Garlemald, but Thavnair. The tear betwixt realms is explored, the first two of the Fiends felled, and Zero returned to the Source upon their collapse. Still desperate to avoid Gaius and what response he may give her, she travels back to Ilsebard.

She teams up with Jullus and Quintus to go through the tower for supplies, and the three of them run into Nerva Galvus - or nearly do. Removing Quintus from the palace was like pulling teeth, but both her and Jullus finally were able to convince him it wouldn't end well if they stayed. They resolve to return after sharing the news with the Alliance - and, after some needling and reminders of you swore, Alta admits she's about in the same boat as Nerva (and sheepishly apologies for being a bit spicy in Endwalker and beyond.)

Alta has gone from begrudgingly eating rations and a half to starving even after two, and feels guilty that she's sapping resources from Garlemald and it's people. Using magic has become a drain on her she hadn't expected, and her stamina for traveling has lessened. After they enter the palace for a final confrontation, putting what was left of Varis to rest in a funeral pyre, she returns to Terncliff. Her state is becoming obvious to those who knew her previously. (Tataru would be happy to see Alta gaining weight again, after how thin she had become during her trip to the First. Alta firmly does not tell the receptionist-turned-tailor. Half the realm would know by sunset, and she is stubborn in keeping those who know to a bare minimum. She is nigh five months and beginning to get quite tired of people asking questions.)

It's the first time she's fully explained what all went on in Garlemald in her visits. She couldn't stomach telling Gaius the truth before, but now she feels as if it's unavoidable. He knew things had been dire, but had no idea that Zenos had treated his father so similarly to Varro and his children.

He was not there for his children. He was not there to protect Varis. There had to be something he could do to repent to his homeland, if only to close that chapter wholly and soundly behind him. Gaius decides he needs to return, if only to visit the grave of his homeland one time before it begins anew.

So he and Severa take off, leaving Allie in Alta's care and Alta in Valdeaulin's. A week of feeling bored and thoroughly harassing Valdeaulin later, Alta takes Allie on a small trip abroad, just the two of them. Allie learns of her present state: Alta, going without her facepaint, flies mostly under the radar as the two act as tourists in Kugane. They return to Terncliff about ten days later and Alta has a linkpearl call almost as soon as the airship lands; the disbanded Scions prepared to go into the Thirteenth, but were informed of issues in Garlemald with voidsent.

Alta leaves Allie in Valdeaulin's care and returns to Garlemald once more. Alongside Gaius once again, the pieces begin to fall into place for those she is affiliated with - her closeness to him as they move about the camp, his challenging gaze when she volunteers overmuch, the meals they share side-by-side - it is painfully obvious what they had gotten themselves into. Alta travels into Lapis Manalis alongside three Scions and Zero, acting as a sub-healer. The third Fiend is eradicated, and they return to the Camp with many, many liters of ceruleum.

(She is instructed to stay in the vehicle and stay warm as they load their loot, and her absolute silence on the ride back has Alisaie being a little sassy about 'the savior of the world, pouting over not being allowed to help'. She is about six months along, and, despite her apology to Quintus for being uncouth and short-tempered, she is still both of those things. It has been years since she has been disallowed to act - doing so now feels like a curse instead of a nicety.)

Alta is taken back to Terncliff with Gaius, who is still in disbelief that she's still forging ahead despite not being able to button her coat any longer. She lurks about the town for nigh on a full moon, tending to the flower field her and Valdeaulin have been growing since her first visit to Terncliff after the end of the world; and, for a moment, she's enjoying the break... before the Scions call on her once more.

The fourth fiend is in need of being dispatched. So she does as they ask, as she always has, and isn't given a reprieve to return home before they make further progress: they've figured out how to get to the Thirteenth's moon, and she's needed.

First to aid in the Aetherfont, and then to travel betwixt the stars.

While she is tired and irritable at the beginning of their adventure to the island of Haam, the surplus of positive aether is a boon after months of feeling drained. Her spells are cast with ease, her mana well feels as if it is bottomless, and for the first time since visiting Elpis, she feels as if she is hale and whole. She carries the energy through to the Thirteenth's moon, and, while relying on her shards from beyond the rift, she is able to take down the Knight in Black.

After a short stint in Thavnair to rest, she does return, one final time, to Terncliff. Despite the small town's slow pace of living and it's lack of true adventure, Alta finally decides she needs a rest. She calls the Scions and their affiliates to inform them of her hiatus and then clicks off her linkpearl for the longest, quietest stretch of relaxation she has had in over five years. She is seven moons and a handful of suns, having traversed two realms and taken down more enemies than the 'disbandment' of the Scions had promised her. She loves them all dearly, but she is tired.

Gaius still has his own linkpearl connection with Estinien open, and is kept abreast of their machinations as Alta stays willfully ignorant. He knows the biggest battle is yet to reach them - to tear down the last bastion of evil in the Thirteenth - and he hopes it is at bay for long enough for the Warrior of Light to have a peaceful last few weeks.

When they come to be, it is to her surprise - not his - that Moogle mail carriers are inundated with gifts and well wishing cards. She thought she had been quiet about it. She thought no one had found out, outside of Jullus, and Quintus, and Nerva, and Alisaie, and Y'shtola and Vrtra and - ....

[thethingything]

oh yeah, a kind of gross update on the situation from last night:

Lucy warned me that we'd end up coughing up lemonade for the next couple of days.

I was still not prepared to randomly cough up lemonade.

this experience feels very fucked up and unrealistic, and definitely worse than what they described.

[frogkeyboard]

guys i cannot understand for the life of me why the cross i have to bear is that everyone wants to fuck and i have no self control

[hanlimz]

midnight thoughts: [heeseung + drunk words]

synopsis: real sweet, but you wish he was sober (alternatively, you take such good care of heeseung while he's drunk that he decides to tell you how he really feels). pairing: heeseung x gn!reader genre/warnings: hurt/comfort (?), f2l (ambiguous but still cute i promise) / EMETOPHOBIA TW (nothing happens but throwing up is mentioned, be cautious <3)!!!, drunk heeseung lol, tiny skz mention (my worlds colliding), um alcohol consumption (?), sunghoon is the dd don't worry there is no drunk driving! wc: 1.4k (el oh el)a/n: inspired by model student heeseung in the first couple en-o'clocks who is unreasonably attractive but also ? a dork . that is all. (love u hee stans this one's for u hope u're doing okay lately w ur man acting the way he is.)

[1:16AM] six shots of tequila and a raspberry smirnoff ice deep, and lee heeseung is gone. strong surges of heat rush to his cheeks to create a dizzying push and pull effect, rivulets of sweat are beginning to drip from his temples, and he's trying his best not to vomit up the fried chicken jake and sunghoon made him eat earlier. heeseung finds solace on the cool tiles of the kitchen floor; he clutches the crisp fabric of his white button down and attempts to will away the waves of nausea that are crashing against the walls of his stomach. breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, heeseung's thoughts begin to drift back to a familiar place. he can almost feel the phantom sensation of your fingers carding through his hair; the tips of your fingers are refreshing and imbue him with a tranquility that he isn't often privy to.

"holy shit, dude—did we really let you get this fucked up?" heeseung vaguely registers jake's voice as two warm fingers reach under his jaw to check his pulse. inwardly, heeseung chuckles—leave it to biomedical engineering major, pre-anesthesiology track jake sim to presume death over everything else. glancing up, heeseung watches the genuine concern that flashes in the younger boy's gaze. "c'mon heeseung, we gotta get you home, bro. good god—[y/n] is actually gonna murder us …”

heeseung curls in on himself at the sound of your name, hiding away from the prodding of jake’s fingers into his upper arms. he wants to press his face into the crook of your neck, he aches to feel your hands cascading up and down the length of his spine, he yearns so desperately for a chance to indulge in a tender moment of unity with you. heeseung closes his eyes to relish in the way the memories seem to envelop him in a ghostly embrace, and he swears he only blinks once. the bass-boosted music and headache inducing strobe lights become mere background accompaniment to the movie playing behind his eyelids.

he swears he only blinks once, but the familiar aroma of your perfume begins to permeate his senses—bergamot and vanilla, his favorite. voices come into focus, his head starts to pound, and the reality of being splayed all over the backseat of sunghoon’s benz is setting in at the speed of falling molasses. "what the hell did you let him get into?" there's a certain venom in the question that bites at his jugular. he recognizes the cadence of your voice and the way you suck a sharp breath through your teeth with ease. "sigma kappa zeta is so out of hee's league—you couldn't have taken him to alpha tau zeta or tau chi tau or someplace that bang chan doesn't run?"

"he said he could handle it!" sunghoon counters.

you let an incredulous scoff escape your mouth as you berate the two boys in a hushed whisper, "and, you believed him? he obviously wanted to impress you idiots. god, i'm starting to think jongseong is the only one of you with a functioning brain ... "

"[y/n]!" jake exclaims, "so not chill."

"no—what's really not chill is tweedledumb and tweedledumber letting heeseung get wasted at his first frat party." you scold, voice cold as ice while jabbing an accusatory finger in their faces. jake and sunghoon hang their heads like dogs being told off for chewing up furniture; in any other situation, you might have had the inclination to chuckle, but you don't. "now, help him up to my couch and leave before i get even meaner."

everything is blurry as heeseung stumbles his way up the stairs to your apartment; sunghoon and jake are bickering with one another while supporting each side of his body—who is tweedledumb and who is tweedledumber, who let heeseung drink this much booze, who will have to recount tonight's escapades to jay, and who will have to give pity laughs to his impending dad jokes? they curse at one another until you mention the possibility of a noise complaint, and all the incessant chatter stops. in the midst of a spring night, only cricket song remains. heeseung focuses on the quiet chirping until the cool leather of your couch cushions begins to soothe the molten liquid that seems to course through his veins. goodbyes are exchanged and a door is closed somewhere far away, but heeseung's head is too heavy to lift.

he blinks again and opens his eyes to the rough fibers of an old washcloth running over the peaks and valleys of his face. the fabric brushes along the deep circles carved beneath his bloodshot eyes; concentration knits your forehead into a multitude of different creases, and heeseung can't help the pitiful chuckle that tumbles from his mouth. an airy sensation overtakes his being as he realizes that he's right where he had wanted to be all evening—with you. embarrassment still settles like an indestructible boulder in the pit of his stomach, however; shame's spindly talons sink into heeseung's flesh as he realizes just how much of a fool he's made out of himself.

"just—just wan'ed to be cool, [y/n]," heeseung slurs out, voice plagued with exhaustion. bringing his knees to his chest, heeseung attempts to keep his tears at bay. "just wan'ed to show you that i c'n be cool 'nd awesome 'nd sexy! but, now 'm just looking stupid on your couch ..."

placing the washcloth on the arm of the sofa, you move to rest heeseung's head in your lap. he gladly accepts the comforting gesture, cuddling into the soft cotton of sweatpants he realizes are his. combing your fingers through his roots and scratching at his scalp, you whisper, "for the record—i already think you're cool and awesome."

heeseung glances up at you, face swollen and eyes puffy. "really?" he asks, "so, you don't think i'm a stupid, un-sexy idiot that can't hold his liquor?"

"well, you can't hold your liquor," you muse with a hint of laughter in your voice, caressing the supple skin of his cheekbone, "but, no. i don't think you're a stupid, un-sexy idiot."

basking in the reality he was just confronted with, heeseung's drunken mind can only focus on one thing. his desperate need for clarification tempts him; desire's forked tongue beckons him towards the truth. the question repeats over and over again in his brain until it spills out—an unwilling victim of an inebriated perpetrator. "so ..." he drawls, attempting to wink but closing both eyes instead, "you think i'm sexy?"

and, you laugh. it's a euphoric sound—a beautiful melody reminiscent of spring picnics, gingham blankets, and the fragrant scent of blooming tulips. for a moment, heeseung loses himself in it; coherent thought escapes his grasp as he is overtaken by you. your touch, your warmth, the bleary image of your smile as it comes in and out of focus. you wash over heeseung in waves, an ocean of calm in a world that only seeks to burn; alluring siren song floods his mind as you call out to him over the sound of the blood pumping his ears. the cool tips of your fingers are beginning the quell the heat beneath heeseung's skin as consciousness begins to slip away from him, and a dopey grin is woven onto his lips.

"heeseung," you murmur, the ghost of a bout of giggles hiding behind your words. "hee, baby, you should really let me get up to grab you some advil."

the term tumbles from your mouth before you can help it, and you freeze. having revealed yourself, you're overcome by the desperate urge to run—but, heeseung has given you nowhere to go. his weight traps you, holding tight and pressing harder by the second. half of you wants to hear him say it back, while the other hopes for the couch cushions to swallow you whole. heeseung—though not a man of many surprises with his perfect grades, perfect attendance, perfect everything—manages to stun you tonight.

"wan' you t'call me that again, [y/n]," heeseung mumbles through sleep, "please."

"you want—" your voice catches in your throat, "you want me to call you baby?"

there's a beat of silence so long that you're almost sure heeseung has fallen victim to the salivating jaws of sleep, but he groans. the utterance is low and deep—dripping with what seems to be a concoction of mild annoyance, exasperation, and endearment. "'s all i've ever wanted, [y/n]," he replies, eyes closed and nose buried into your sweater, "you're all i've ever wanted."

another pause.

"okay," you say, meandering through the quiet for a moment, letting yourself wade towards him in this new sea of possibilities, "baby."

[brain-rot-central]

Sonnet of the Lone Cardinal, Ch. 2

A/N: HEAVY TW FOR PREGNANCY AND TALK OF CHOICES. I understand this is a sensitive topic for some. Feel free to skip over this chapter; I will completely understand.

Rating: M - soft E Word count: 3.7k Pairing: Ascended Astarion/Fem!Tav Warnings: pregnancy, discussion of pregnancy termination, mention of prior sexual acts, emetophobia tw, angst, loss of consciousness, druids are connected with nature and shit, stalking behavior

Summary: Astarion's visit wasn't a one-off event. He and Tav have continued to meet nightly over the last few months, Tav all but losing track of time. It isn't until she ends up at the home of a certain druid that time catches up to her. She's now charged with a difficult choice, all while under the never-ending watch of her clandestine lover.

♥ Previous Chapter ♥ Next Chapter ♥ Link to Ao3

It's a day of rest for the citizens of Baldur's Gate, and the market is restless. Errands that have been pushed off for the last tenday all beg the same level of attention as shoppers flit from one store to another. Children laugh in the streets as they run past, mothers hopelessly screaming their names in an attempt to track them down.

Tav peruses the wares of various street vendors and shopkeepers. Her bag is already full, though she makes a quick argument with herself that she could absolutely use a new scarf. Mindlessly, she scratches the side of her neck while browsing the collection of woolen scarves at an upscale boutique. A sting of pain shoots down her neck, an unpleasant reminder of the discolored welt she had sucked into her flesh a couple nights ago.

The visits have continued since that first night. Astarion never gives much warning as to when or if he will return. It’s always the same modus operandi - he shows up unannounced, they spat, they have sex, and he's gone come morning. Tav rubs over the sore spot on her neck again, wincing as she recalls the evening's events.

Astarion was particularly rough that night. She could tell something else must have been preoccupying his thoughts as he didn't care much for their usual banter. No, he very quickly got straight to work, his fingers sinking into her cunt as he sucked the mark deep into her throat. Feeling a blush rising to her cheeks, Tav shakes her head in an attempt to rid her mind of the memory. At least until she's no longer in public.

Gazing across the store, Tav settles on a particular scarf. It's a light-gray color with various types of flowers embroidered throughout. Bringing it to the shop owner, they make light conversation regarding the detailing of the scarf as Tav expresses her desire to buy it. Tav pays the fee, stepping over to the shop’s mirror to place it around her neck. She gasps as she narrows in on the bruised skin of her neck, seeming to be worse now than earlier this morning. Heat rises to her cheeks once again as she winds the scarf around the column of her neck, paying extra care to position the fabric over her secret.

Waving to the shopkeeper, Tav exits the boutique and heads toward her next destination - the butcher's. Her freezebox is running empty, and there's only so much more vegetable soup she can eat before tiring of it. 

Truth be told, however, her appetite has shifted dramatically in the last few weeks. Even Astarion has commented after she nearly upchucked all over his loafers. He's agreed to go lighter on the cologne going forward, and thank the Gods he's obliged. Tav vaguely wonders if she's fighting off some type of illness, though it's been much too long for a simple stomach bug.

She's reminded just how tender her breasts have become as well, yelping aloud as she collides into the back of another shopper out in the street. “I'm so sorry!” Tav says quickly, ducking out of view before the victim can get a good look at her. She winces at the soreness of her bosom as she adjusts her bodice, dipping into her favorite butcher shop.

“Ah, Tav!” greets the butcher, warm and welcoming. A halfling, his amber eyes finding her as his lips pull into a smile. “Haven't seen your face a good while,” he comments. “I was startin’a wonder if you'd run off on yet another adventure.”

Tav chuckles and gives a nod. “Good to see you, Gideon. I'm still here!” The scent of meat is oddly strong today. Tav feels her stomach beginning to twist and turn as she surveys the various cuts of meat and fish laid out on the ice of the display cases.

They exchange pleasantries; Gideon shares quick stories about his family, Tav telling him more about her adventures to stop the Absolute. Disappearing into the back of the store, Gideon yells out, “Were ya interested in tryin’ some sausages, Tav?” Before she can reply, Gideon reappears holding a tub of meat trimmings.

Her nostrils are assaulted by the smell. Her stomach is lurching at this point, ready to spill freely up her throat and onto this poor man's pristine wooden floor. “I-Is it a new recipe?” Tav asks, feigning interest. She places a clenched fist over her mouth as she belches.

“No, not a new one,” he explains. Tav watches as he slips a sausage casing onto the spout of the meat grinder. “Improved!” Gideon grabs a handful of trimmings and places them into the funnel atop the grinder. Holding the casing in place, he begins to twist the crank with the opposite hand, machinery grinding the trimmings into mince.

Tav registers the sound of Gideon’s voice in her ears, though none of the words make it across her brain. She's transfixed on the way the meat mince fills the casing. Saliva pools thick on her tongue as a wave of sickness strikes her. The grinding of the meat has intensified the smell; it's not a particularly bad smell. In fact, it smells rather pleasant. But it's a smell; a strong smell, nonetheless, and strong smells are not something she can handle, as of late.

“Tav? Tav!”

She snaps from her daydream as Gideon's voice cuts through her mind. “Oh,” she says, “I'm so sorry. My mind was elsewhere, Gideon. Forgive me.” Tav’s eyes follow Gideon's hands as he gathers more meat trimmings to place within the funnel.

“That's totally fine, dearie! I was just goin’a tell you-”

Gideon cranks the handle again, grinding more meat into the casing. The accompanying smell overwhelms her nose again, and suddenly she's retching, violently, onto the pristine floorboards below - exactly what she didn't want to do.

After some time she's dry heaving, having emptied the full contents of her stomach. Tav then sinks to her knees, vaguely hearing Gideon scream from behind the counter. Her ears are filled with little else but the rapid beating of her own heart. As her chest heaves from the power of her emesis, Tav’s vision narrows a single tunnel. She falls gently onto her side, the touch of Gideon’s hands holding her head the last thing she remembers before slipping away into unconsciousness.

—------------------------------------

The ceiling is unfamiliar.

Tav snaps awake, rising curtly from the bed she lay on, certainly not her own. Immediately she's met with the soothing, pleasant scent of patchouli incense. And sage, lots and lots of sage.

“Ah, you've finally awoken,” a gruff yet feminine voice speaks from the far side of the room.

With a swivel of her head, Tav meets the hazel eyes belonging to this mysterious being. Wild blonde hair is woven into locks, adorned with beaded jewelry. Sun-kissed skin wrinkled by the passing of time, alluding to the beauty she beheld in her youth.

 “Jaheira?” Tav asks in confusion. “How did I…?”

“You passed out in the market, little cub,” she explains. Jaheira comes to sit on the edge of the bed, a laugh escaping her. “Boy, you gave that poor shopkeeper a fright. I happened to be not far from where you were when I heard the commotion.”

Running a hand through her hair, Tav recoils after touching a particularly sore spot on the side of her scalp, face pulling into a scowl. “Did you bring me back here?” Tav asks.

With a quick laugh, Jaheira says, “With some help, yes.” She gives a quick nod to Tav. “Don't worry, we maintained your dignity.”

The episode at the butcher's begins to replay in her mind. “Oh, Gods, Gideon!” Tav exclaims, holding her head in her hands. “I ruined his beautiful floors!”

“He seemed more worried about you, little one,” says Jaheira. Quirking a brow as she tilts her head, Jaheira asks, “Who is this man to you? He's not exactly your type.”

Disbelief settling across her face, Tav yells defensively, “Jaheira! He's my butcher!” She winces as another bolt of pain shoots down the side of her skull.

“Ah, go easy,” coos Jaheira, hands coming up in a calming gesture. “I only tease.”

With a sigh, Tav pulls the covers off herself and moves to sit up. She rubs the back of her neck, stretching it side to side. A gentle “pop” is heard once she flexes her neck to the left, shaking out her shoulders before standing.

Looking down, Tav realizes she's naked. Embarrassed, she quickly grabs the duvet from the bed and wraps it around her body. “Why am I-”

“You hit your head on the way down,” Jaheira explains. “I had to check if there were any other injuries.” Seeing Tav’s pained expression, Jaheira adds, “No need to worry, there are none. I've also treated you with balms and oils to ward off a concussion.”

Nodding her head toward Jaheira, Tav scans the room until she finds her clothing in a neat pile on the dresser. She walks over to retrieve her garments, dropping the blanket onto the floor to begin stepping into her trousers.

Tav catches Jaheira's gaze in her periphery. Jaheira is studying her intently, looking curiously at the bruise on her neck. Her vision dips lower to the swell of Tav’s breasts, and further still to the unusual softness of her lower belly. Tav dresses hurriedly, feeling uneasy under Jaheira's watchful stare. She secures the embroidered scarf around her neck before searching for her boots.

“Forgive me for prying,” Jaheira says, cutting through the uneasy silence that has befallen the room. “I couldn't help but notice the mark on your neck.” Lips pulling into a smirk, Jaheira asks, “That isn't a gift from the butcher boy, is it?”

With a laugh, Tav bends down to pick up her boots that rest in the corner of the room. “Oh, most certainly not,” comes her answer. Sliding her feet into her boots with a huff, Tav says, “No, this is from…” Her voice drifts off as she thinks of Astarion. How to describe their situation? The question baffles her. “An old flame,” she settles.

“Ah, so you know this boy?” Jaheira inquiries while raising a brow.

Having tied the laces of her boots, Tav returns to the bed. “For some time, actually,” she explains, taking a seat. “We're… trying to rekindle what once was, I think.” An uneasy discomfort spreads throughout her chest.

Jaheira lifts a hand to Tav’s chin, gently turning her head to the side, exposing the marred flesh of her neck from under the scarf. “Is he handsome?” Jaheira asks jovially, her eyes roaming the young woman’s skin.

With a gentle laugh, Tav replies, “Quite.” Her eyes track the older woman's face, holding her chin steady within Jaheira's grasp.

“And how long have you been rekindling what once was, hmm?”

Furrowing her brow, Tav slowly turns her head, fully facing Jaheira. “I beg your pardon?” Tav asks, befuddled. “That's a rather personal question, don't you think?”

A heavy sigh escapes from the druid’s chest as she closes her eyes. Reopening them, Jaheira asks, “When was the last time you bled, little cub?” The hand that was on Tav’s chin now reaches up to tuck hair behind an ear.

Rage swells within Tav at the emboldened line of questioning. Before a response could form on her tongue, realization washes over her. “I-” she stammers, “I could have sworn it was a few weeks ago, but…” 

It has indeed been quite some time. Months, in fact. She's been so preoccupied by Astarion's return into her life, the new dynamic they have formed, working on settling back into how things once were… 

Tav simply… forgot. Forgot to keep track.

“Oh, Gods,” Tav exclaims, voice cracking as anxiety begins to take root. “Do you think… I could be…?”

“I have reason to believe,” comes Jaheira’s graceful response, compassion evident across her features. “It would only take a few moments to confirm, if you wish.”

Averting Jaheira's watchful gaze, Tav nods her head. Jaheira motions for Tav to lay down atop the bed, Tav hesitantly complying. A strong sense of despair settles over her as she rests against the pillow. Does she even want to know? Probably, as that would be the more responsible thing to do.

Right?

“Close your eyes and relax,” Jaheira says calmly, hands hovering over Tav’s abdomen. A faint green glow emanates from the palms of Jaheira's hands, and she hums softly. Tav closes her eyes and breathes in a cleansing breath, releasing as much tension on exhale as she can.

The room is silent for a few moments, until Jaheira suddenly jerks back. “By Silvanus,” she gasps, mouth falling agape. Eyes wide as she stares into Tav, who is now sitting upright on the bed.

“What is it?” Tav asks, panicked. “Am I..?”

Jaheira's face twists and contorts before finally settling on bewilderment. “You… are,” she confirms, hushed. Tentatively, she questions, “You… refused your father, did you not?”

Bhaal, her accursed paternity. The source of murderous rage and never-ending blood lust that once threatened to consume her. Something she and Astarion bonded over deeply, back then.

“I did,” Tav answers. “Why do you ask?” She studies Jaheira as the older woman falls silent, lips pressing into a thin line. “Jaheira, what is wrong? Tell me!” she demands.

The druid casts her eyes down at the floor. “The child… is unnatural,” Jaheira gasps, sucking in a large breath. “The aura… It goes against every law of nature.” Disbelief sours her expression further as she shakes her head. “It is an abomination.”

Unnatural. Abomination. Jaheira's words repeat in her mind. Tav's breath hitches as truth sinks in, her vision narrowing.

She is with child. An undead child.

Astarion's child.

“No,” Tav cries, “no, you have to be wrong. It's not possible.” Denial floods her chest, heart beating wildly. The fine hairs of her arms stand on end as a wave of nausea rushes over her; she feels sick. And stupid. So incredibly stupid.

Reclaiming her seat on the bed, Jaheira places her hands over Tav’s. “Oh, sweet girl,” Jaheira says, rubbing circles into her skin. Tav physically recoils at the pity laced within her voice. “Did he tell you he couldn't? They all say that, and none ever mean it.”

Tav shakes her head in disagreement. “No, it's… It isn't that,” Tav begins, voice cracking as a sob pushes past her lips. With a huff, she pulls her hands from Jaheira's and throws them into her lap, defeated. “It… it would have happened already…?” She stares into Jaheira’s eyes, searching desperately for a ledge to pull herself up and out of this nightmare.

Jaheira returns her gaze, her hand cupping Tav's jaw tenderly. She tilts her head, eyes full with understanding before asking, “Cub, do you mean to tell me the father is…?”

Her throat feels tight, almost to the point of suffocation. Pressure builds in her head as Tav tries to choke back the string of sobs that threaten to overwhelm her. Her stomach is flipping violently, much like earlier in the day, though she's unsure of what would come up. Her eyes burn as tears begin to roll down her cheeks, and she finally buries her face within Jaheira's chest, giving herself over to acceptance of her current situation.

Jaheira says nothing at first, placing her hands across the young woman's back, mindlessly rubbing up and down. She presses a kiss atop her hair and begins rocking Tav within her arms, all in an effort to comfort the distraught human. “I thought you left him, Tav?” the druid asks, delicately.

Pulling herself from Jaheira's bosom, Tav wipes her tears with the back of a hand. “I did, but he came looking for me a few months ago.” Stupid, she scolds herself. So godsdamned stupid to ever let him back in. Throwing her hands up, Tav says, “What do I do, Jaheira? He can't ever know.”

“No,” agrees Jaheira, rising from her place on the bed, “he absolutely must not.” Walking over to the dresser at the opposite end of the room, Jaheira opens the top drawer and begins rummaging within. Tav sees her retrieve a small midnight blue bottle, closing the drawer before stepping back over to the bed. “Take this,” Jaheira insists, holding out the bottle to Tav.

Raising a hand, Tav hesitantly retrieves the potion. She studies it intently, rotating the bottle within her grasp. “Essence of Moonshade,” Tav reads off the faded label, inquisitively. “What is this?”

Jaheira sits again on the bed next to Tav. “The wife of a tyrant's most trusted confidant,” explains Jaheira, leaning in closer to the younger woman. Raising her hands, Jaheira encloses them around Tav’s and the bottle. Their eyes meet, concern apparent across the druid’s face as she says, “Drink this, and you needn't worry any longer.”

Furrowing her brow, Tav takes a moment to consider Jaheira's instructions. She quickly stands, ripping her hands away from Jaheira as the puzzle begins to align. “Are you asking me to purge this child, Jaheira?” Tav questions, distraught.

The druid woman is silent for some time before weakly nodding her head. “I am giving you a chance to rid yourself of the curse that grows within.”

Tav clenches her fists rapidly as anger swells within her, beginning to boil over. “His seed sprouted in my belly; does that make me wretched, too, Jaheira?” she shouts, utterly bewildered by what the druid is asking her to consider. “Should I also be purged? Punished for my womb being so favorable as to nurture the child of a monster?” she yells, venomously.

“Tav, no-” Jaheira coos, eyes soft as she extends a hand.

But before the druid can continue, Tav begins to weep. Unrestrained sobs pour from her lips as she sinks to her knees, hiding her face in her hands as she screams, “I can't do it, Jaheira!” Wrapping her arms around her torso, Tav begins rocking herself back and forth. Her skin prickles with anxious energy, heat rising throughout her chest. “They're half of me,” Tav tries reasoning, weakly. Tears fall freely from her eyes, though the sobs begin to subside. 

At least, until her arms press down over her chest and she winces at the tenderness of her breasts. A reminder that she is, indeed, pregnant. That this is not a dream. She's transported back into the hellish nightmare she sought such desperate momentary relief outside of, the sobs continuing.

Jaheira kneels down next to the young human woman, a gentle hand rubbing her back. “I am sorry, little one,” says Jaheira, mournfully. “To aid you was my only thought.” Jaheira elaborates while raking a hand through Tav’s auburn locks.

With a gentle shake of her head, Tav says, “No, I apologize, Jaheira. You're only trying to help and I'm…” Being ungrateful, she finishes within her mind. Her thoughts are muddled. A multitude of emotions rushes through her like a river after rain. Tav digs her palms into her eyes and rubs, giving her head another shake as her hands drop into her lap.

“Tav, look at me,” states the druid, a hand coming to hold Tav’s chin again. She lifts the young woman’s face to meet her eyes. “I do not fault you for being beguiled by him. I, too, was once a young woman,” Jaheria with an honest laugh. Her expression softens. “Whatever your decision, please know that I am here.” Jaheira gently strokes a thumb over Tav’s chin and adds, “You may always come to me, whenever you feel the need to.”

Warmth begins to radiate from Tav’s core as Jaheira's words settle over her. She feels pressure mounting in her face again, tears imminent, but for a much different reason. “Thank you, Jaheira,” Tav says, wrapping her arms around the other woman’s waist in a tight embrace.

Jaheira raises her arms, bringing them around Tav’s shoulders. “You are a beautiful, intelligent young woman. I trust you will be fine,” she states emphatically, pressing a kiss against Tav’s temple.

The two women separate, Tav wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. Jaheira helps them stand, nodding toward the forgotten bottle on the bed. “Take that home with you,” Jaheira insists. “You still have some time to decide.”

With a quick nod, Tav walks over to the bed and retrieves the bottle, tucking it into the front pocket of her trousers. “I don't know how to thank you,” admits Tav.

“Ah, don't mention it,” replies Jaheira with a wave of her hand. “Now, be on your way. I'm sure you've grown tired of spending time with an elder.”

Tav laughs as she picks her pack up off the floor, situating it upon her back. She exchanges parting pleasantries with the druid as they walk down the stairs, Jhessem and Tate running past them as they reach the door. Tav waves back as she descends onto the streets of the city, Jaheira yelling something unintelligible toward the rambunctious children as she closes the front door.

Taking a deep breath, Tav pulls the dark blue bottle from her pocket and gives it a quick glance over. She shakes it slightly, watching the liquid slosh to and fro within.

The sound of a bird squawking above draws her attention from the potion, and Tav looks up. On the roof of the home across from Jaheira, a black raven sits perched on the gutter. It cries again, twisting its head in various different directions before taking flight. Tav watches the bird fly off, disappearing from view. Strange, she thinks. Tucking the bottle back into her pocket, she begins the trek back home.

—------------------------------------ Atop the tower wall he stands, golden chalice adorned with rubies in hand. The sun is beginning to set over the city, a golden glow illuminating the many alleyways below. The man extends his opposite arm as a raven appears. The bird perches upon his offered ledge, hopping slightly closer to him as it chatters. “Hello, darling. What news of my damia do you bring?” he purrs to the bird. It squawks in response, the bird's head turning rapidly. Bringing the goblet of wine to his lips, Astarion takes a strong sip. “Is that so?” he responds. Licking his lips, he comments darkly, “How very, very interesting.”

[loopspoop]

Lupin fans, welcome to a little AU I like to call the Snowmon AU!

Based off a current fixation on ice elementals and everyone’s favorite samurai >:3 I present the first chapter!

TWs: hypothermia, drowning, near death experience, descriptions of CPR, emetophobia

Trudging through the polar snow, Goemon had to admit the amount of white out here was getting vaguely annoying to look at. Lupin’s latest set of shenanigans had brought them to the Shackleton Ice Shelf, over 13,000 square miles of barren white snow and ice making up a rather small portion of Antarctica. They generally tried to avoid places this cold, except that one time with the penguins. Despite that general avoidance, here they were.

“Remind me why the fuck we’re out here again? I’m freezin’ my ass off!” Jigen huffed, pulling his thick coat firmly around himself.

“I told you already!” Lupin called back, smiling as he looked the tattered piece of paper in his gloved hands over for the umpteenth time.

Goemon remembered the exact conversation they had had pertaining to this expedition from several weeks ago.

“Who-?” Jigen looked out at the thief from under his hat, pausing stirring their dinner.

“Douglas Mawson. He was a geologist. Helped with the Antarctic explorations? Seriously?” Lupin raised an eyebrow as he pouted. “Damn, okay. Basically-“

“Yeah, yeah, discovered Antarctica or whatever, your point?” Jigen waved his hand, turning back to the food.

“Rude.” Lupin huffed, flipping down beside the samurai on the sofa. “He didn’t discover it. He explored it. What he actually discovered is loads better!”

“So what did he discover?”

“I’m so glad you asked, Goemon!” Lupin smiled broadly, tossing a tattered paper onto the coffee table. “The worlds largest diamond to date!”

“Diamond? This isn’t for Fujiko, is it?” Jigen frowned, turning the burner off as he walked over skeptically. “If it is, I’m out.”

“No, no, no. This is for us.” Lupin shook his head. “A diamond this big? I could chip a piece off for her and keep the rest for us and we would barely notice it’s absence! It’s huge!”

“How big exactly?”

“Supposedly, it’s over six inches and over 7,000 carats.” Lupin smirked, looking the map over carefully. “About halfway into the Shackleton Ice Shelf in a crevasse.”

“And why exactly did this Mawson guy just leave a find like that sitting in the ice for any petty thief with a plane to come take?” Jigen cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

“It was the early 1900s. They didn’t bring enough necessary technology to get to it since it was pretty deep down and Mawson never made it back to retrieve it. He marked it on this map which I managed to snatch from a successor.” Lupin snickered. “So now all we have to do is get to Antarctica and we’ll be the proud owners of an extremely valuable diamond.”

“Here! I found the crevasse!” Lupin called, waving them over frantically. “Goemon, think you can reach it?”

“Step back.” Goemon waved them back, taking stance before unsheathing Zantetsuken.

In one fluid motion, metal against ice sung through the air as the samurai traveled about seven foot down into the crevasse. Landing at the bottom, he sheathed his sword once again before looking around. It seemed that the crevasse was an opening to a smaller cavern. He could see the diamond sticking out of the ice, deep blue in hue and, indeed, extremely large. Stepping up to the stone, Goemon glanced back at the light pouring in from above.

“You’ve got it, Goemon! Just grab it and jump back out, okay?” Lupin called down cheerily. Goemon could practically feel the excitement in his tone.

“Okay!” He called back, turning back as he grabbed onto the gem.

A blinding flash of light and a large crash met the samurai before everything went black.

~~~~~~~

Lupin stumbled and fell back as the ice below him shook and powered snow was blown out of the crevasse. Glancing over at Jigen who was flat on his ass and just as shocked, Lupin could feel the blood drain from his face.

Something had just exploded.

Body moving before he even thought about it, Lupin flung himself to the edge of the crevasse and looked in frantically. Was Goemon injured? Had the crevasse caved in on him? What the hell had even exploded???

Goemon wasn’t there. The ice at the bottom had shattered and broken through to the ocean below.

He heard himself screaming before he realized he was actually the one screaming, sliding down as quickly as he could as he tried to find any trace of the samurai, any signal he was there and okay. Zantetsuken was lodged between two rough pieces of ice, it’s master now where to be seen. It made Lupin more panicked than anything else.

“Lupin-!” Jigen shouted, sliding down beside him quickly as he looked around frantically. “Where is he?!”

“I don’t know, I don’t-! Goemon?! GOEMON?!” Lupin screamed, searching the clear water for any sort of sign.

Blue. It was his kimono. Under the surface of the water.

“NO-!” Lupin screamed, voice cracking as he lunged for the water.

“No, don’t-!” Jigen yelped, grabbing him around the middle as he slipped down the ice a bit. “You can’t help him if you’re in shock from the cold!”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” Lupin cried, hands shaking as he shot the clip from his watch and latched it around the samurais ankle before he pulled him in quickly.

“Come on, come on!” Jigen grabbed the back of Lupin’s jacket and Zantetsuken, hauling both back out of the crevasse.

Lupin pulled Goemon up, laying the soaked samurai on the snow as his hands shook. His lips were blue. He wasn’t moving, wasn’t breathing. God, he wasn’t breathing!

“Lupin! Lupin, do somethin’!” Jigen looked at him anxiously, unsure of what to do.

“I-I-“ Lupin fumbled, hands shaking before he put them on the samurais chest.

Pump. He had to pump his chest. Make his heart beat.

Pumping his chest, Lupin could feel, could hear, Goemon’s ribs crack and crunch under his hands. Blowing air into his lungs before he pressed his ear to the samurais freezing chest, Lupin prayed for a heartbeat, a sound, anything. And then he began again. Counting the compressions, listening for breaths or a heartbeat, going all over again. He didn’t know how long he went for, frantically begging Goemon to open his eyes in between.

And suddenly the samurais body jerked and water gushed from his mouth as he tried to draw in a breath. Lupin rolled him onto his side as he gagged and choked, retching onto the ice as the thief held his hair back and nearly cried from relief.

“Goemon! Oh, thank god!” Lupin rubbed his back, frowning at the large amounts of water he was spitting up. “Easy, bud.”

“Christ…” Jigen frowned, body relaxing slightly. “I thought…”

“I know.” Lupin frowned. He didn’t want to finish that thought. “Goemon..?” He looked him over anxiously.

Goemon slumped against him, eyes lidded as he panted and shivered. Frost was gathering on his hair and on his clothes as they began to freeze over from the cold. Lupin could hear the residual fluid rattling in his lungs as he breathed. He pulled the samurai close to his body as he looked back at Jigen anxiously.

“We need to get back to the plane.” Lupin looked back at Jigen quickly. “Help me with him.”

“Fuck, on it.” Jigen quickly wrapped an arm around Goemon’s torso as he helped Lupin get him up. “Shit, he’s freezin’!”

“Just hurry!” Lupin urged anxiously, going at a half run with Jigen toward the plane.

Jigen threw the door open, helping Lupin bring Goemon inside. Leaving the thief to handle things, he jumped into the pilots seat. He needed to be able to get them to their hideout in Perth as quickly as he could make the plane go. He had to cut a nine hour flight down to as soon as possible for Goemon’s sake.

“Easy, bud, easy. I’m right here.” Lupin assured, helping Goemon out of his soaked coat and kimono until he was completely undressed.

“L-Lu-“ Goemon choked out, clinging onto his arm as he doubled over and retched up more water.

“I’m right here.” Lupin frowned, sitting him down on the bench as he grabbed some blankets as he wrapped them around him. “I’m right here.”

Undressing down to his underwear, Lupin pulled Goemon in close to his chest as he wrapped all the blankets around them tightly. Taking Goemon’s freezing hands in his own, Lupin tried his best to keep them warm. He knew he couldn’t massage him…making him too warm too fast would be dangerous, but he had to stave off frostbite. He could feel the samurais breathing, slow, wheezy, rattling. He was shaking so badly..teeth chattering as he shook. His body was devoid of any warmth, and Lupin was worried his heart would stop again.

“D-Di-Diam-mond-“ Goemon wheezed through shivers, hazily gazing toward Lupin.

The thief could feel his heart clench in guilt. Goemon just nearly left them for good and he was worrying about that damn diamond? Biting his lip hard, Lupin pulled him in closer as he shook his head. Diamonds could be replaced..Goemon couldn’t be. He spent so much time seeing Goemon as an unstoppable force…but he wasn’t. He was just a guy who was way too hard on himself and maybe they were just as hard on him too.

“It’s okay, Goe. Don’t worry about the diamond.” Lupin carefully tried to dry him off with the blankets. “Just save your energy.”

[nonbinaryaubrey]

(emetophobia tw. uhh and just general omori stuff ig.)

--

--

(You normally have.. pleasant dreams you think.) (Well you. hardly remember most of them. and they make your heart ache and your head burn. but deep down in your heart you know that there was something nice there.)

(Tonight was not one of those dreams.) (You're greeted by yelling. A dark room. Warmth under your fingers.) (You look down. Your hands are covering someone's (your friend your friend a brother) eye. Blood covering the side of his face. Your hands. The floor.)

(You blink. You are somewhere else. Your eyes sting.) (The room is bright. A light buzzing fills your ears.) (You are looking at that same person, who just moments before had blood spilling from his eye. The eye is covered now, neatly.) (He opens his mouth. and speaks. Somewhere in the back of your mind you think of this as odd, for him.) (None of the words make it to your ears, covered up by loud ringing. And yet you still.. feel. something.) (You can feel tears filling your eyes. You feel confused. You feel angry and sad and you feel hurt.) (You hear others talking around you, more ringing fills your ears as the room around you blurs and you see vague, flashes of things.) (You remember crying you remember yelling you remember feeling hollow you remember being loved and-)

(You're somewhere else again. You know youve only been here once before. Twice now.) (A grave. The name on it is illegible.) (Your mind is still buzzing, your eyes still sting.) (You open your mouth and you-

-Wake up, and promptly throw up onto the grass in front of you.) (A hand hesitantly touches your back as you hack up whatever was in your stomach) (The warmth, the weird static-y feeling of it. It comforts you vaguely.) (You wheeze a little as you sit up) "S-Sorry Loop… hhhah. Bad dream I think." (You look over at them, theyre normally so hard to read but..you can see the concern in their eyes this time.) "Are… you sure that's all, shooting star?" (You nod.) "Probably." (You don't even remember it now. It.. it was probably nothing.) (It had to be.)

[filmnoirsbian]

Sorry about the length! Hope you read it anyway, if not no harm done :) a sad

My shameful crush is actually a scent mixed with a person??? I have this very vague, kind of snapshot-like memory of being 5 years old and sneaking out of my bed in an attempt to hide behind the couch and share a snack with my grandmas dog (a bowl of dry Cheerios, I would get the left handful, she would get the right handful). I got out of bed, and snuck behind the couch only to then realize that my mom was sitting on the couch. Blocking my entry to the kitchen. Sitting, I should add, with this man she had been dating. I’m sitting there, panicking, when I smell something. It smells like cigarettes and something fresh (cigarettes are an easy scent to identify). I smell it, and for one reason?? Become really infatuated with the smell? Like I actually started breathing so deep and loud that my next memory is of my mom asking me why I’m “panting behind the couch, you are not a dog”. I also remember feeling really hot and my hands were tingly, idk.

Of course, in my panic and subsequent grounding I forgot all about it. Fast forward to high school junior year. (About 10 years later) And I’m fresh out of the hospital for an ED (again), and have gone to spraying myself with bath and body works body spray to cover up the scent of (tw: emetophobia) vomit . I was currently out of mine so my mom let me borrow hers. Sea Island Cotton.

Not enough to trigger the memory, yet.

Fast forward to lunch where I see Hayden. A boy I met my freshman year who was crude, and kind, and not really someone I usually hung out with. He once took a picture of me and told me I was going to be a model someday (kind) and then said someone would probably masturbate to my picture in a magazine (crude). I hadn’t seen him since last year and in my surprise to see home I ran up and hugged him. (Not at all something I would I would usually do, might I add.)

He smells like cigarettes.

Immediately the memory resurfaces.

I pull back, blushing furiously at both the hug and the memory. And you know what Hayden says?

“Yep. You’re still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

When I say, to this day, when I’m struggling with my ED I think of this moment. Maybe it’s shallow and stupid to say that someone finding me attractive helped with my ED (helped didn’t cure). But it did.

I never saw him again. Literally ever, after that day. I don’t smoke anymore and I don’t use bath and body works spray anymore. But I keep a few cigarettes and an old bottle of the spray. And when I need comfort or am insecure in my body I spritz myself and light up.

I think about Hayden often. I really hope he’s okay, and I hope that if he thinks of me , he thinks of me fondly.

This isn't shameful at all and in fact I'm really glad you had that moment ❣️

[syscultureis]

tw for emetophobia (will be as vague as possible)

system culture is getting really sick and throwing up a Lot and then having a dream that we split an alter named after the last thing we ate because of it. we meet a lot of alters through dreams so we arent sure if we actually split them or not but. why would you pick that name kgbsgkjd

.

[everybodyshusband]

Tw: Emetophobia

Can you please consider writing a hurt/comfort fic about a little ghoul who gets sick and has tummy hurts?

I threwed up today and my tummy still hurts and my mom (I’m not a minor I just live with her) is being even meaner and scarier than usual even though I don’t feel good. I would like to haves some ghoul comfort please? I wanna feel safe for a whiles and feel taken cares of please. Thanks you, I loves yous /p!

of course i can, love. it sounds like you've had a really bad day, i hope you're feeling better now <3 i saw your other ask as well, and of course i can have them cry and be comforted (and i'm very sorry to hear about your dropped crackers. i hope you managed to cry a little bit without your mum seeing <3)

mountain/nonbinary regressed rain comfort coming right up :) cw for mentions of vomiting

“Rain? What’s going on in there, love?” Mountain knocks on the door sounding worried and Rain can’t help the sad, longing whine that escape their throat at the sound of his voice.

"I– I don' feel good... Hurts." As Rain speaks, the world seems to start spinning all over again, despite the fact that they’re now sitting on the cool bathroom floor. They slowly realise that maybe they’re the one doing the spinning. They wouldn't be surprised, their limbs feel a lot shakier than usual and their head feels all… fuzzy.

The earth ghoul opens the door slowly and his face immediately scrunches up in worry as he walks in to find Rain swaying where they sit, leaning against the sink with a plushie held limply to their chest with arms that feel too wobbly. He runs to the little ghoul’s side and crouches down beside them, brushing his fingers softly against their—concerningly warm—cheek. "It hurts? What's hurting, my darling?"

"I's here." They point to their stomach and almost immediately let out a hurt whine and hug the plushie closer to their stomach as another wave of nausea overwhelms them. "Tummy hurts an' feel sick." They manage to force the words out past the dizzying sensation as Mountain tilts his head in confusion at their original, vague answer.

"Oh, Rainy, poor love." Mountain pulls them into a loose hug, leaving plenty of room for the little ghoul to breathe—or to escape his hold, if that’s what they need—and Rain wraps their arms around Mountain as tightly as they can manage in return, sniffling and burying their head in the earth ghoul's shoulder. "Do we need to get your plushie out of the way in case anything comes up? We don’t want them getting dirty, do we, hmm?” His arms are already reaching out to take the plushie from their arms but Rain pulls back and shakes their head quickly.

"Already comed up…” They sniffle as they speak; partly from the memory of only a few minutes before that makes their stomach churn the more they think about it, and partly from fear that Mountain really will take their plushie away if they get sick again. “But I don' feel good. I thinked was gonna feel gooder, but I don't!" They don’t realise they’ve started crying until Mountain pulls their head away and swipes a tear off their face with gentle fingers, pressing a soft kiss to their wet cheeks afterwards for good measure. The realisation that they’re crying only makes them sob harder as they bat their hands weakly at Mountain’s chest, their breaths coming out short and disjointed from their panic. “I– I don’ wanna be sick, Mounty! I don’ wanna feel bader!”

“Hey, hey, no, love, it’s okay,” the earth ghoul soothes, stroking their head and running his fingers through their hair as gently and calmly as he can. “You’re okay,” he whispers against Rain’s hair. “You’re gonna be okay, tadpole.”

Rain pulls back and looks up at Mountain through their tear-blurred vision. “Promise?” Their voice wobbles with unshed tears.

They’re not sure if they can believe Mountain when he says they’re going to be okay, but they do their best to nod and wipe their tears away as the earth ghoul reassures them. “Yes. Yes, you’re going to feel better soon, my darling. I promise.”

“O– Okay. I buh-leeve you, Mounty.” They surge forward to hug the earth ghoul, burying their face in his chest once again. They smile as Mountain laughs, the vibrations in his chest rumbling against Rain’s cheek, helping them regulate their breathing as they begin to calm down.

They still feel sick, and a little bit like crying again, but they’re relatively content to be held in Mountain’s arms for as long as he’ll let them. If they’re really lucky, maybe he’ll even let Rain fall asleep in his lap and carry them back to bed, tucking them in with a kiss on their forehead and a whispered “Sleep well, little one. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

[h1mmel]

jingliu and otto bonding(?)

platonic fic, tw for emetophobia

rakshasa -> luocha, I chose to call him rakshasa cause the term has connections to the vidyadhara that i will leave the explanation out of this post so it doesn't turn into an autism infodump. but look it up it's really cool

---

Hiding a person so forbidden from the Luofu that their name may not even be mentioned was not an easy task.

At least, that’s what this Rakshasa man told himself. Quite honestly, however, he mildly enjoyed the company as someone who usually lived and traveled solo. This is something he would never admit.

Jingliu, to his interest, seemed to have no hobbies or ways to spend her spare time. Many wasted hours were spent staring off into space. She spent a great deal of time meditating, which he found no purpose to. Occasionally, she would mumble words he did not know the meaning to in a language unrecognizable.

When he finally found the time of day to ask her about it, he received a vague answer.

“I meditate to keep my mind clear. My martial arts help slow the effect of Mara on my psyche.”

Martial arts are for fighting, not meditation, the Rakshasa had wondered to himself, but he voiced no criticisms.

Jingliu never shared with him much information about himself, so he never expected an elaboration. He also knew little about her deal to seal away her Mara by some unknown entity, though he could tell very well its effects.

He pretended he couldn't see when she would have to pause while walking to catch her breath, face paling and doubling over in agony as the cursed effects of the Abundance raged within her body. He pretended he could not hear when, through the thin walls of their dwelling, he could hear her gasping and groaning in pain from where she laid on the living room couch. She did not want to show weakness in front of him, so he was not about to cross that boundary and offer his assistance.

Jingliu ate little, but her body still required sustenance, so he took it upon himself to cook for her after realizing she put little effort into doing so. Before he insisted upon such, most of her meals consisted of snacks from vending machines and occasional servings of prepackaged noodles.

As a middle child in his family, this Rakshasa man had enough experience cooking that he felt confident preparing foods for others. Jingliu, unlike his siblings, was not picky and seemed to like what he prepared for her at least enough to tolerate it without complaint.

As such, it raised his concern hearing the obvious sounds of her throwing up coming from their shared bathroom, knowing she’d eaten nothing but the food he’d made her. At first, he considered leaving her be as he often did, but then decided that if he had indeed given her food poisoning, an apology was in order.

“Jingliu?” He carefully knocked on the door.

No response came for a few moments, but eventually he heard her voice.

“...Use the neighbor’s toilet,” her voice sounded strained.

“I don’t need to. I’m just checking to make sure everything’s alright.”

“Go away,” came a blunt reply.

He did not object, and left her alone.

The Rakshasa man spent nearly an hour enjoying his time on the living room couch when it had temporarily been freed from its occupation. He made an attempt to read, but it was difficult to fully immerse himself in his book when he could hear the obvious sounds of a struggle occurring within the bathroom just down the hall. It was an hour before the groans coming from within turned to pained sounds approaching the volume of a scream. It was also an hour before he got fed up and returned to the bathroom’s door.

He knocked three times, and he did not receive a reply.

“Jingliu, you’ll disturb the neighbors. Is everything alright?”

Silence.

Finally, a reply. “Are you stupid?”

He did not react. “Let me come in. I am a healer, after all.”

Both of them knew well his healing had no effect on her Mara, but he still hoped she’d take him up on his offer. As a somewhat-doctor, he at least had a pleasant bedside manner and could possibly help alleviate some of her suffering.

“...Enter.”

The door was not locked, and the sight he was greeted with inside made his stomach twist. Things had been knocked off the counter and scattered across the floor, ranging from toothbrushes to makeup and hairpins belonging to the both of them. Bloody handprints stained their white bathrug as well as the towels, and Jingliu was on her knees, hunched over the toilet, her back turned.

He did not show any sign of shock to her despite his own surprise, instead kneeling next to her and trying to assess her condition.

The Rakshasa had never seen Jingliu in such a state before. With her hair disheveled, skin deathly pale, mouth and nose dripping blood which was smeared across her face and stained in her clothes in places, she looked more dead than alive. A brief glance into the toilet bowl found the sight of blood mixed with golden Ginko leaves.

So it wasn't food poisoning. That made things much more difficult for him to treat.

“Do you know what’s wrong?” he spoke in a voice uncharacteristically soft of him, not wanting to startle the woman.

“...The price.”

“Pardon?”

“The price… I’m paying… I’ll… pay the- ghkh…” her words were cut off by a retch which turned into full on vomiting. Pale hands gripped the porcelain bowl so tightly the Rakshasa feared she'd break it as she gagged. He watched more blood heave from her lips, followed by a single golden leaf that she promptly spat out where it landed with the others.

“Hnnghhk…” her eyes did not open after she was finished.

At first, he touched her tentatively, placing a hand on her back and waiting to gage her reaction. She did not object or even move, uncharacteristically of her, so he took this as consent to try and soothe her.

He rubbed her back as she recovered from her bout of throwing up with struggling breaths and occasional gags. After a little while, she lost the strength to remain sitting on her own, and slumped against his body beside her for support.

However, this peace did not last long and her body did not spare her much time of rest before the Rakshasa felt her tense up again.

This time she did not throw up, but he felt her spasming and thrashing, looking as if she were being attacked from the inside. The man used both hands now to hold her steady, and while she tried, she was too weak to break free from his hold.

“Stop… I need to-! Hnfhghk…you’re.”

Her words came out between gasps, barely understandable through slurred speech.

Then, she did throw up again, and he was barely able to move her to the toilet in time before more blood spilled from her lips, followed by multiple leaves this time around. He used one hand to hold her hair out of the way while the other rubbed soothing circles at the peak of her spine.

“It’s okay,” he murmured to her softly. “It’ll pass. Just focus on breathing through your nose.”

Eventually it did, and she slumped against him again as the strength left her body.

“Otto Apocalypse,” she mumbled through gritted teeth. “I’m going to kill you.”

“Not right now. It’s not my time yet, nor is it yours.”

“I’m- hnghh,” she looked as if she were about to object, but he felt her tense again as another wave of pain swept through her body. This time, he adjusted their position so that she faced him, pulling her into a comforting embrace with his head resting in the crook of his shoulder. It was a strategic move to keep her from flailing, but it felt oddly comfortable at the same time.

Fingernails clawed at his back as cries which turned into sobs racked the woman’s body. Each time she tried to squirm away from him, he used a hand to hold her in place, which she didn't have the strength to break away from. He almost felt bad restraining her like this, but feared if she was left on her own while writhing around, she might hit her head on the toilet or cabinets nearby. Judging from the blood matting her hair on the back of her head he’d only just noticed, and her struggling speech and slurred words earlier, she most likely already had.

It was a long time before the wave of spasms passed and she was finally allowed a moment of reprise. This time, she did not attempt to speak, so the Rakshasa chose to fill the silence. He did not know how conscious she was at the moment, so he addressed her not expecting a reply.

“Your body rebels against death as if to say it isn’t your time yet. You’ll have to stay with me for a little longer.”

“I’m already dead…” her voice was wispy. “I’ve already died.”

“You still breathe, your heart still beats, and your mind is still strong. For as long as that lasts, you still have a mission to fulfill,” he paused for a moment. “That’s what you told me when we first met, and I questioned the nature of your body.”

“It’s shattered,” Jingliu rasped.

“Your mind? Heart?”

“My sword heart.”

The term didn’t make sense to the Rakshasa, but he did not question her words. There were many phrases and definitions he did not understand as an outsider to the Xianzhou, and it felt like an insensitive question to ask her to elaborate. Since he did not know how to respond, the Rakshasa instead let the silence settle between them.

Eventually, her breaths evened out and he realized she had fallen asleep in his arms without his noticing. While he didn't want to move her at risk of disturbing her rest, he wished to clean the blood from her face at least, so he gently lowered her to a place on the floor that had been spared from her violent outburst earlier and began preparing a rag wet with warm water.

Her eyelids fluttered as it pressed up against her forehead, but her eyes did not open. It was only then that the Rakshasa realized she lacked her typically donned blindfold, which he wondered the reason for, but was thankful it hadn’t been there to get thrown up on. He would have to deal with her lingering anger if she’d lost something of such importance to her.

He noted her ragged breaths even in her sleep, and watched as her brows contorted in pain. Even sleep would not grant her peace from her curse.

Otto did not look at her face further as he finished with his work.

[sicknessbysalem]

Salem's Sickfic Masterlist

Masterlist of Fics I have written!!

if you have a question, comment, concern, or a request, feel free to send it over!

End Zone, Endgame

i. one: in which despite being twenty five, linebacker novak daskalov has to come to terms with the fact he is not invincible, especially when he has a child in public school. (tw for emeto, fever, sickness; additional warning: sickee is a single dad with a daughter, who appears in the story, proceed as you wish.)

ii. two: in which novak learns that despite being a football player, a dad, and an adult in his twenties, the past can still haunt you, especially when you're coming down with something. (tw emeto, fever, character panic, mentions of past abuse)

iii (a). three, part a: in which novak learns that just because the past is past, does not mean his brain lets him off the hook. especially not with a raging fever and a hell of a virus. also, novak is a grown man who makes really poor decisions. (tw emeto, fever, flashbacks of abuse)

iii (b). three, part b: in which Novak is miraculously not too terribly injured (to an extent anyway) and his physical recovery turns into the beginning of emotional recovery too. (tw emeto, concussion mention, religious trauma, parental substance abuse mention)

iv. four: in which novak is fulfilling the duties of being a dad, but also has to realize that being a dad doesn’t make him invincible. (tw emeto, illness fever, content warning: fic begins with child illness, but is majority adult illness)

v. five: in which novak is away for a team building retreat, but the team gets built in a very different way when the star linebacker gets sick (tw emeto, fever, sick away from home)

vi. six: in which novak is stuck with a migraine that results in a seizure. vanessa uses the opportunity to learn more about her girlfriend's high school best friend. (tw emeto, fever, character seizure, migraine, implied past trauma)

vii. seven: in which Novak's girlfriend, Yuliya, plans a nice dinner date night, but Novak is very poor at communicating. (tw emeto, nausea, stomach pain, character not telling significant other about something)

viii. eight: in which it's novak's birthday, but as luck would have it, a proper dinner with family and his girlfriend is the last thing his body wants to have part in, celebration or not. (tw emeto, nausea, being sick in public)

ix. nine: in which even as a coach, not a player, novak still makes terrible decisions about his health, and his girlfriend is convinced he'll send her into cardiac arrest before they get married (affectionately)(tw cough, implied emeto, fever, character making themselves sicker)

Ruat Caelum (Until the Heavens Fall)

i. one: in which vanessa gets sick and almost loses it outside the house she shares with her roommate, willow. (tw for emeto, sickness, fever, nausea)

ii. two: in which we see fragments of vanessa's past, and how deeply she cares for willow. (tw for emeto, panic attack, fever)

iii. three: in which the tables have turned, and we see that even a med student isn't invincible. (tw emeto, vague implication of injury, fever)

iv. four: in which despite being in police gear, vanessa is the farthest thing from invincible despite her better desires. (tw emeto, fever, stress, slight panic)

v. five: in which willow's mom instinct meets her med student instinct, and vanessa is exceptionally confused and totally a cat person (tw emeto, fever)

Ballad of the Wildflowers

i. one: meadow likes to think she's invincible, as untouchable as poison ivy, but even the most vibrant wildflowers wilt once in a while. (tws for fever, nausea, vomiting, slight panic)

ii. two: in which, despite her efforts, meadow has to deal with one of her worst fears, even if she thinks it's stupid. (tw emeto, emetophobia)

Novemetober 2023 (Rescheduled)

big thanks to @monthofsick for hosting this event

i. day one, unconventional receptacle: in which chef emiliene lahaye overestimates her ability to keep herself together and has to utilize a last resort. (tw emeto, fever, underage (16) caretaker)

ii. day two, can't stop puking: in which a fresh out of college novak daskalov gets sick at the worst possible time with the worst possible people. (tw emeto, fever, sickness, pushing too hard when sick, bad environment)

iii. day three, torture (figurately speaking): in which amancio literally has not been sick in over a hundred years, but his special half-human protegee decided to give him a little taste of humanity (and amancio is not enthused at all) (tw for dry heaving, supernatural (not the show) characters, half ghost character, tw implied partial death)

iv. day four, messy: meadow loves to put on a show in every aspect of her life. even the less desirable moments. meadow also learns that it can always get worse. (tw emeto, fever, sickness, scat [in conjunction with emeto])

v. day five, undesirable caretaker: the (fictive) crown prince of sweden has far from a good life, or a good support system. no matter how bad things get. he's just a liability, isn't he? (tw emeto, fever, implied abusive parent) [so much appreciation for @simplysickness to entrust me with their characters so they can live on]

vi. day six, post adrenaline puking: in which caffeine is not medicine, no matter how hard motocross star xavier davenport tries to convince himself it is. (tw emeto, caffeine overload, brief/vague mention of mental health issues, bad coping mechanisms) [once again, sparrow has put their children in Salem's Foster Care System(tm)]

vii. day seven, too feverish to think: in which even in college novak has a severe lack of braincells and refuses to let himself quit anything until he's good and fucked (tw emeto, sickness, overwork, stress, panic attack, fainting)

viii. day eight, choose: loud or silent: in which novak still refuses to quit until he's undeniably fucked beyond a logical explanation, except he's a grown ass man now which has taken more braincells from him than it has given back. (tw emeto (small), migraine, hypersensitivity, character seizure)

ix. day nine, persistant sickness: in which no, novak does not learn his lesson and thinks he is invincible no matter what. he absolutely is not. (tw for migraine, emeto, seizures, character overworking themself.)

x. day ten, motion sickness: in which vanessa is sure nothing stresses her out. well, everything except one thing. and of course, that one thing will make her pay for being so worried in the first place. (tw for emeto, anxiety, motion sickness, brief description of crime scenes at the beginning)

xi. day sixteen, waking up puking: novak daskalov does not know his limits and is so absolutely stupid and cannot lie to his girlfriend for shit. (tw emeto, fever, exhaustion, seizure mention (but no actual seizures this time))

xii. day seventeen, sick for the first time: in which for once novak is in the caretaker position, which isn't exactly common, and even less so that it isnt someone related to him in a familial way, but he's determined to do the best job he can for his ice princess. (tw for emeto, fever, lying about sickness, mention of chronic condition (lyme disease))

xiii. day nineteen, sick in more ways than one: in which the summer heat does nothing for one linebacker in particular, on top of everything else (reupload with edits)(tw for overheating, emeto, dizziness, migraine mention, fever)

xiv. day twenty, late caretaker: vanessa mcallister is usually a loan wold. or, she used to be. but now she has a station pup, leaving her to be a lone wolf plus one, much like her coworker is. (tw for emeto, resistance, fever, sick on the job)

xv. day twenty-one, sleepy sickie: novak likes to lie about being okay and convincing himself and others he is, but unfortunately he has one massive tell that gives him away. (tw fatigue, nausea, vomiting)

xvi. day twenty-seven, headache: novak daskalov likes to think he has no enemies (well, very few). funny how the biggest enemy of all is his own damn body and self. (tw emeto, migraine, hypersensitivity/overstimulation, seizure)