#vomiting mention

[bottlehawk]

my beta kids guardianswap au scribble-notes.

[puhpandas]

Stuck in the Loop

(2,764 words)

(Gregory convinces Evan to go on the biggest, scariest roller coaster in Hurricane. It goes just about how'd you expect.)

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"No."

"With sprinkles on top?"

"No!" Evan insists.

"Oh, come on!" Gregory deflates, running in front of Evan when he tries to get away from Gregory and getting in his face. "Go on the Red Death with me!"

Evan rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "No, Gregory. It's literally called the Red Death! Theres absolutely nothing you could do to make me get on that death trap!"

Not only does the name do nothing to make Evan want to get on it, but it's the scariest looking coaster in the park. Evan doesnt like coasters, or even rides in general, but when Gregory had heard about the complete lack of rides Evan had gotten on an at amusement park, he hadn't stopped bugging him about it.

But Vanessa is off somewhere with Freddy, probably getting snacks, and Evan is left to Gregory's pestering alone.

"But doesnt the name sound cool?" Gregory asks, grinning. "They say a kid who got on it got his brain turned to mush because it went so fast and that's why they called it the Red Death."

Evan quirks a brow, finally stopping in his tracks so Gregory doesn't have to chase him anymore. "Wh-- what does that even have to do with the name though?"

"Um, because it was red and bloody and the kid died?" Gregory says like its obvious, shrugging at him.

"And that's what's supposed to make me want to get on it?"

Gregory sweatdrops, looking to the side. "Uh, well--"

"No thanks." Evan says, briskly walking past Gregory and gripping his cotton candy. "I dont really want to die on a roller coaster today. Much less to a head injury."

"Oh, come on!" Gregory whines, chasing behind Evan and gripping his bag. He has to yell over the sound of a coaster when Evan's walking caused them to get too close to it. "It'll be fun! I promise!"

"Not for me!" Evan yells. "I hate roller coasters!"

And its true. Last time Evan had gotten on a roller coaster, it had been a few years back, and it was because his parents hadn't cared enough to sit with him while Michael got on one of the big, scary coasters, with loopety loops and straight vertical drops, but he couldnt be left alone. So when he was forced to get on the coaster with Michael, he had thrown up all over his older brother.

That wasnt a fun day for Evan.

"I'm plenty content just looking at the sights and pretty lights." Evan says. "Better than getting a headache all day."

"Okay, look." Gregory starts, holding out his hands, and Evan knows this means hes going to offer a deal that isnt really fair enough to be considered a deal. "How about this."

Evan sighs. "Oh, boy."

"Hear me out!" Gregory insists with placating hands. "You go on the Red Death with me," Gregory begins, pointing at Evan, and then himself. "and I wont bug you about a ride again all day."

To Evan's surprise, Gregory's proposal actually gets his attention. "Really?" He asks with wide eyes.

Gregory grins. "Yep!" he says. "This one coaster, and I wont even mention the Ferris Wheel."

That causes Evan to perk up. The Ferris Wheel is the bane of his existence. Not since he'd gotten on one as a younger kid and been stuck at the top for what felt like hours, scared out of his mind of the heights with his Father of all people. Michael would tease him, but his Father had barely a drop of humor in his body, and everything he'd said about Evan's fear was cold, harsh, and brutal.

Now Evan likes the blinking and flashing neon lights, that are always present on the Ferris Wheel, and always spottable from anywhere in the park. Especially when it gets dark and they shine all pretty like. But he's only been able to enjoy those from the ground, never on a high enough coaster with his eyes open and not squeezed shut with fear of plummeting down a two hundred foot drop, so it's not enough to stave off his hatred for the ride.

"Not once? Wont try to force me on it?" Evan ventures.

Gregory almost looks offended. "I would never force you on a ride. What do you take me for, a monster?" He furrows his brows, then holds out his hand to shake. "No mention of the wheel, or any other rides you dont want, and I'll buy you a funnel cake."

Evan's eyes sparkle, and he grasps Gregory's hand and shakes it at the promise of a funnel cake. "Deal."

Gregory grins almost as bright as the flashing lights at the prize games, and Evan doesnt actually realize what he agreed to until they're standing in line, and he can see just how far the Red Death travels high into the sky.

Evan feels queasy as the line moves forward, and the sight of the straight down vertical drop and loopity loops vanish from sight after entering the boarding area. "Oh, no..."

Gregory just claps him on the shoulder, and smiles. "Exciting, huh?"

Evan shakes his head and trembles as he watches a group in front of them be sent off on the coaster. "If you call feeling like you're gonna throw up exciting."

"Itll be fun." Gregory insists, but then meets Evan's eyes and gets serious, voice hushed over the excited chatter of the guests they share the line with. "Hey, you get on this coaster with me and dont like it, I wont ask you to get on another one, okay?"

Evan furrows his brows. "I thought that was already the deal."

"I mean it, though. Seriously." Gregory pushes, smiling. "I want this to be fun. And if it isnt, then I won't suggest doing something you didnt like again."

Evan just stares, and definitely doesnt tear up a bit when Gregory is nothing but sincere. "I-- Um-- Alright." Evan stutters, wiping at his eyes. "I'll try it, okay? I'm just... not that into feeling scared for fun. I already feel that way on my own enough."

"I get it." Gregory tells him, and holds him in a side hug when it's their turn to step up to the weird cart sculpted like a dragon. "Oh! Looks like we're next!"

Evan feels any sense of peace drain out of his body, replaced with anxiety now that its actually happening. "Oh, um-- Well, I--"

Gregory just steers him to a seat near the middle, and hands their bags to the attendant. "Nope. Too late. It's already happening." Gregory says good naturedly.

"Oh my god." Evan chokes out when hes strapped in, tight, secure, and pressed up against Gregory's shoulder. "Oh my god."

"It hasn't even started yet." Gregory laughs. And as if on queue, the ride pops and lurches, and Evan is only half aware of the embarrassment that colors his cheeks when he shrieks.

"Oh my god!" Evan says more forcefully this time, when the attendant says something Evan wasnt listening to, and the ride starts moving. "Gregory!"

Gregory just cackles when Evan is already pushing himself into the seat of the coaster before it's even gotten going. "Red Death! Red Death! Red Death!"

Gregory's chanting is joined in by others on the coaster, and Evan shakes his head when Gregory looks at him expectantly, a grin on his face.

"Look, you can see Vanessa from here!" Gregory says, looking over the edge of his side and waving.

It's only now that Evan un-fuses himself with the seat, and leans forwards to catch sight of Vanessa and wave, too.

But he'd chosen the exact same time that the coaster begins the drop.

The coaster lurches, and Evan only has enough time to look forward before Gregory is raising his hands in the air, and Evan is left grappling for purchase when the coaster leans forward, and begins to drop.

The nearest solid object turns out to be Gregory's arm, and Evan's stomach does flips when hes thrown downwards, down a completely vertical drop.

"Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!" Evan shrieks, barely heard over the wind whipping around his ears and through his hair. Evan feels his heart jump into his throat, and his gut into his ribcage when their cart sails towards the ground. Evan can barely see what's going on around him, too busy trying to hide his face in the event that it may teleport him off and deliver him straight to solid ground.

Through Evan's own screaming, he can hear Gregory cackling and whopping, and when he finally peels his eyes open, Gregory has one arm in the air, the other being clutched by Evan, and Gregory turns to him.

"Isnt this fuuun!!" Gregory screams through the noise of other guests shrieking, and the coaster rattling along the rails.

"I--" Evan goes to speak, but the coaster lurching again throws him forward, and he shrieks again, grabbing Gregory's arm with his other and wrapping his ankles around Gregory's calf. "I'm gonna die!"

Gregory screams with laughter at that, and he let's Evan cling to him like hes the only thing standing in between Evan and death.

Evan thinks that this is it, his soul has left his body and is heading to heaven when the coaster flips them upside down.

Gregory whoops with joy, but he grips Evan a little tighter. "This is the best part!"

Evan begs to differ, but he can't say so because hes too busy screaming his voice out.

Evan squeezes his eyes shut when he can see the sky beneath him and the ground above him, and he feels nausea crawl up his throat when the coaster lurches, and knocks him and Gregory against the protective railing.

He and Gregory Oomf! when they slam against the solid object, and Gregory makes an upset noise when the coaster slows down.

To Evan's horror, the coaster squeals against the rails, and slows to a stop.

Gregory doesnt say a word. The only sounds are other guests conversing in disappointment and the coaster popping and letting out steam.

Evan gapes as the coaster stills completely, and leaves him and Gregory hanging upside down, on the highest point of the coaster, stranded.

Evan holds his breath, completely frozen in shock, and Gregory gapes as well.

"Um." Is all Gregory can say. "Um. I think. I think we're um."

"Stuck? Stranded? Trapped?" Evan finishes for him.

Gregory scratches behind his head, hair hanging above his head. "Yeah. That."

"What's going on?" Evan can hear some others murmer. "Are they gonna fix it? When are they coming to get us?"

"How long are we gonna be stuck here for?" Evan asks Gregory, trembling when he can feel himself hanging off of the seat and his iron grip on Gregory's arm and the protective railing.

"...I don't know." Gregory says after a moment, sounding dejected.

Evan sighs out shakily, not daring to look above him, lest he see exactly how high up he actually is. "Oh boy."

Gregory turns to him, cheek pressed up against his shoulder. "Evan, I'm-- I'm so sorry--"

"Its okay." Evan cuts him off, and ignores the brewing anger inside of him, because this is exactly why he doesnt like roller coasters, and he'd told Gregory so. He sighs, and tries to be kind for his friend, who doesn't deserve any malice. "Its okay, Gregory."

"No, its not." Gregory insists, swinging forward to try to get in Evan's line of sight better, and Evan tries to ignore the bolt of fear shooting through his stomach when Gregory is displaced for a moment. "Its not okay, Evan. You said you didnt want to get on, and that you hated roller coasters, and I still forced you to get on one."

Evan squeezes his eyes shut, mouth dry. "I said that its okay, Gregory."

"I just wanted you to actually have a chance of having fun at an amusement park." Gregory continues, and when Evan opens his eyes at the emotion lacing his friends voice, he can see Gregory's upset face. "You've only ever been with your dumb family, and they suck too bad to let you be comfortable at a place like this."

Evan shuts his mouth, staring at Gregory with misty eyes when he keeps going.

"Every time you've gotten on a ride, you've always had Michael making you as scared as possible, and your Father ridicules you and makes you feel terrible." Gregory's voice cracks, and to Evans horror, he can see a twist in Gregory's lip, and his friend looks at the ground, er, well, the sky.

"I just wanted to give you a good experience. I just wanted you to have the opportunity to decide what you do and don't like, without your family breathing down your neck about it."

Evan's eyes swim with tears, and Gregory laughs humorlessly, neck twisting around and face scrunched up when the setting sun gets in his eyes. "Look where that got us."

"No." Evan mutters, voice thick. "This isnt your fault, Gregory. It's bad luck, sure, but..." He trails off. "I'm not angry at you. I could never. I've already had more fun with you than I ever did with my family. Please, just..." He wipes a tear away with his sweater. "Dont feel bad. You did nothing wrong."

Gregory smiles softly, but still shifts in discomfort. "...Thanks. But were still hanging upside down on the highest coaster in the park with no clear sign of rescue any time soon."

Evan nods at that, because its true. "Freddy's probably freaking out." Evan points out.

A laugh bursts out of Gregory, and he twists his head, as if he could see Freddys malfunctioning head from all the way up here. "Ness probably is too. I wouldnt be suprised if shes giving the employees a piece of her mind right now."

A laugh rips itself out of Evan, too, real and genuine, and his cheeks hurt from how much hes smiling (probably from how much he screamed, too), despite the situation they're in.

Eventually, of course, Evan gets a headache, and all Gregory can do is try to distract Evan from it while the employees take their sweet time rescuing them.

The sun, at some point, had begun to set, and right as Evan has resulted to resting his eyes all while trying to ignore the pounding in his head from the blood rush, Gregory slaps his arm repeatedly.

"Hey, Evan. Check this out." Gregory says, soft in awareness of Evans headache. Evan peels his eyes open, squinting at the bright light, but looks to where Gregory is pointing.

Evan's eyes open fully when he sees the sight in front of him.

Just over Gregory's shoulder, the sun has set over the park, casting a dark shadow across the attractions, but the sky itself is a beautiful painting of pinks, purples, and yellows, the sun at the center of it all.

The lights of the park glow and flash, the neon lights accentuated in the dark. From where Evan's sitting, he can see kids trailing after their parents as the guests file out of the park, some skipping and jumping, some holding giant prizes, and some asleep on their parents backs.

But the Ferris Wheel is what really grabs his attention. The lights stand out and glow against everything else like it's a beacon, and they flash in patterns and colors that captivate him from the beauty. Evan is able to see it in all its glory from his spot on top of the coaster.

Not to mention the unusual circumstances of being able to see this view upside down.

Evan gapes at the sight of it all, not uttering a word as he just absorbs it. Gregory is quiet as well.

Its peaceful. Just watching the sun set. Watching the lights glow. Watching the result of families heading home after a long day of fun, filled with love.

"You were right about preferring the sights." Gregory mutters after a while, some of the final remnants of the sun peeking through his hair and forming a halo around him. "This is awesome."

For some reason, Evan splutters a laugh at that, and it only intensifies when Gregory grins at him.

Maybe they are stranded on the scariest coaster in the state, thousands of feet off the ground and hanging upside down with no indication of a rescue coming soon, but it isnt so bad when Evan has Gregory.

ao3 link

[just-antithings]

I had to cut off a longtime friend because they turned out to be a raging anti. I've been feeling pretty annoyed by their hypocrisy (about other things) for a while now but this is the last straw for me. This person who often begs me to play horror games with them even though I've told them repeatedly that I don't like supernatural horror and jumpscares, who put on a youtube video where someone throws up even though I've told them that it triggers me, who doesn't mind gratuitous violence and gore in live action, wants to police what media other people can consume. They routinely talk behind people's backs by sending chat screenshots to other groups and want me and other friends to back them up (read: trash talk complete strangers based on a snippet of conversation where they're usually the one who come off as the asshole anyway). I seriously do not have the energy to deal with them anymore. I just wish I'd stopped making excuses for them sooner. Sorry for the rant, I just don't know where to go with these thoughts.

.

[grosslyoversimplifiedpolitics]

[ID: Screenshot of an Ao3 tag that reads, “Vomiting, Flowers only but still the theme of retching is heavy” /End ID]

[niobiumao3]

Many assumed Hunter was the least variant among the CT-99s, but nothing could be further from the truth.

--

For Whumptober Day 1: Safety Net, Swooning, “How many fingers am I holding up?”

--

Who’s ready for Crosshair’s super over-protective phase? Me, I am.

The majority of this is for Whumptober 2023, with a chapter here and there for other prompt events. It's not a very long fic, and largely me vibing on what Hunter's variation might actually consist of.

I don’t tend to follow standard fanon for the Batch’s numbers, I just pick whatever I’m feeling for the story I write. Sorrynotsorry.

[capseycartwright]

Resting your head on your partners lap.

For the physical intimacy prompts, if you want.

Buck couldn’t help but wince at the sound of Eddie throwing his guts up for the fifth time in as many minutes. He was a seasoned firefighter, sure, but no one liked the sound of throw up. Right? It was a universal fact: nobody liked to sit and listen to someone throw up, but you did it anyway, because that was love. Buck knew that much.

Knocking gently on the closed bathroom door, Buck called out. “Eddie? Baby? Are you okay?”

Eddie, bless him, did his best not to sound completely pitiful as he replied. “I’m fine!” he said, the enthusiasm in his voice strained.

“You don’t sound fine,” Buck countered.

“No, I’m really so fine,” Eddie replied, taking a brief pause to throw up again. “Everything is just – dandy.”

“Eddie.”

Eddie huffed out an unrecognisable noise, and there was quiet for a few minutes as the toilet flushed, and Eddie turned the tap on. Tiredly, he eased open the bathroom door, giving Buck a pitiful look. “Everything is not dandy,” he admitted forlornly. “I think I have food poisoning.”

Buck grimaced. Eddie was the medic in their relationship, so he trusted the diagnosis – but he had already come to that conclusion himself. Eddie had eaten some dodgy looking seafood for his lunch, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that was why he was vomiting his insides out now, an hour before their dinner reservation.

“I figured,” he gave Eddie a sympathetic look.

Eddie sighed, flopping ungainly onto the floor where Buck was sitting, resting his head in Buck’s lap. There were better places to sit in their hotel room, Buck knew, but he was never going to say no to an armful of Eddie: even if they were sitting in a heap on the floor. “I washed my mouth out,” he reassured, and Buck couldn’t help but smile: they were long past the point of being offended by each other’s bodily functions.

“I don’t care,” Buck reassured, brushing a hand through Eddie’s hair, the brown strands damp with sweat. He didn’t have a fever, Buck noted, reassuring himself that it couldn’t be anything more than food poisoning, or a twenty-four-hour bug.

“I care,” Eddie grumbled. “I cannot fucking believe I have gotten food poisoning on our honeymoon.”

Buck grinned, looking at his shiny new husband of exactly ten days. Eddie looked a little pale, despite the tan he’d developed on the first six days of their trip. Sun, sand, sea, and a whole lot of quality time with Eddie had been good for the soul. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does!” Eddie huffed, curling closer to Buck. “It’s our honeymoon, Buck.”

Buck shrugged. “There’ll be other trips.”

“Not our honeymoon, though. Our fancy, all-inclusive, nice hotel honeymoon.”

They’d saved up for a while, wanting to really treat themselves – but Buck was pretty sure he’d have enjoyed a honeymoon spent camping just as much. The point, he supposed, was getting to spend one-on-one time with the love of his life.

“We can take a honeymoon every year, if you want,” Buck suggested.

“Every year?” Eddie sounded sceptical.

“Mm,” Buck hummed. “There aren’t any rules that say we can’t, is there? If we want to take a honeymoon every year – we can take a honeymoon every year.”

“Every year?” Eddie sounded placated, a little less annoyed that on the second-to-last night of their honeymoon he’d gone down with a case of food poisoning. When the memory was a little less fresh, Buck would absolutely tease him for trusting street seafood, but Buck held back for now. He liked to wind Eddie up, but he wasn’t unkind. Most of the time, at least.

“Every year,” Buck promised. “A whole week – you and me, anywhere you want to go.”

“That sounds nice,” Eddie hummed, suddenly going pale. “Oh, god – Buck, I think I’m going to be sick again, oh.”

Buck tried his best not to grimace as he ended up with a lapful of vomit. That was – marriage, he supposed? In sickness and in health, and all that.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbled.

“I am – going to call down to reception and ask for a bucket,” Buck said. “And then I’m going to burn these pants.”

[butterscotch-goat]

girl why you so vivisection (IDs and transcripts in alt text)

me when I realize that having a plot that has a lot of focus on medical trauma and unethical experiments means I'll have to research medical stuff (it grosses me out)

[meraarts]

The pacing in this episode is incredible, you really feel the dread building up. From slight fear for everyone’s health all the way to a clenching stomach that might make you throw up :)

[ruthytwoshakes]

My back hurts from vomiting so much but fuck it we ball!!! I totally meant to post a bunch durning June but my fish died like a day after I made that first post so that really fucked with me for a while. But we’re doing better! Mourning is no more! And oh my god i totally need to respond to my friends on here I’m so sorry guys :,)

Here’s my first attack for this year! Featuring my not great tweening skills and Zofet’s wonderful character, Slate! I’ve always really loved Zofet’s work, and I try to leave an attack every year :) Check them out here: https://artfight.net/~Zofet

(and find me at: https://artfight.net/~DaffoDuck )

[evaiskindaweird]

Me cause I keep frowing up

[schadenfreude-whump]

Cecilio (Tithes for Utopia)

You don't get context for this. It does exist, and will be established. Eventually.

Big thanks to my beta reader, @brutal-nemesis!

CWs: Vomiting, "It" used as a dehumanizing pronoun along with some general dehumanization, religious themes, food.

Characters: Cecilio, Carlow, Cyrus, (Ilma, mentioned)

Cecilio woke up as he did every morning - aching, sickened, and exhausted. Trying to sleep on the thin pile of musty hay that they called his “bed” was a torture in and of itself (but, as always, that was the point, wasn’t it?). Despite being here for… however long he had been here for, he had yet to find an even semi-comfortable way to sleep in his glorified concrete closet. There was no position that didn’t leave him sore or covered in splinters or cold or vulnerable or any mixture of those. 

If there was one thing he had figured out though, it was their pattern, and when the door unlocked and groaned open, he was not surprised to see Carlow. He wore his ever-present warm smile, which would deceive anyone that didn’t know him. The warmth was not directed towards anyone but himself. The coolness of his eyes were for those around him.

In this specific moment, it was for Cecilio.

“I don’t have all day.” He said.

Cecilio sat up at attention, holding back a groan as he did so, trying to hide the soreness in his body. He wouldn’t put it past Carlow to use it against him. 

He limped behind Carlow through the compound, remembering to keep his head lowered, Carlow was the one who would punish him the most severely for not showing deference, after all. He noted that they passed the “special room” meaning whatever Carlow had planned for him today did not require a lot of set up, or maybe it did, but he wanted to hurt him in a new way while he did set it up. The only thing at the end of this hallway was the workshop.

Cecilio was allowed to use the restroom in the back of the workshop, a “privilege” for which he had to thank Carlow excessively for. He tried not to lick his lips too much while he washed his hands. Carlow would know if he drank any water without permission, so his thirst would have to wait.

When he returned, he was directed towards a foam mat in the center of the room, where he obediently sat, wondering what sort of new way to torture him the priests of the compound had cooked up.

“Now,” Carlow said, turning to address him, “close your eyes.”

Cecilio obeyed.

“You are going to keep those closed until I tell you, explicitly, that you are allowed to open them. If I see them open, I will glue them shut. Understand?”

Cecilio nodded.

That seemed enough for Carlow, who, by the sound of it, turned heel and walked over to the workbench directly across from where Cecilio sat. There was a metallic sound, and then something like sawing, and he strained his ears, trying to figure out what it was.

Truly, it could be any number of things. The “special room” was for tortures that needed a dedicated space, like the puzzles and challenges they enjoyed forcing him to do, but it wasn’t the only space they used. There was a reason the workshop had drains on the floor, and anchors for chains and manacles throughout the room. They kept the hammers and batons side-by side in here, and both could be used to hurt him.

The sawing sound abruptly stopped, and Cecilio stiffened as he felt Carlow’s footsteps approaching…

Only to go right past him to throw something in a drawer behind him, rummage, and walk back.

Apparently there was some kind of preparation involved here, but Cecilio had no idea what it was. Was he preparing or modifying one of the tools? Which one? Was he building something?

Keeping his eyes closed and being still was as difficult now as it would be if he were in a cage of starving alligators. His instincts told him that fleeing was the best option here, but this wasn’t a large predator trying to eat him. Worse, in fact, because then he would be killed, but the creatures who inhabited this lair would never let him die so easily. No matter how he begged.

He took a breath, trying to calm his mind, at least a little bit. If he could figure out what Carlow was doing, it might make today a little more bearable. He could mentally prepare for it, as much as one can do such a thing.

There was that ever present sawing noise, one he realized sounded actually closer to filing. Carlow was sharpening something, perhaps? A knife? A saw?

“They say thinking too much causes wrinkles”

He almost jumped up and opened his eyes at that. He was so deep in thought he hadn’t noticed that Carlow was now standing right over him, judging by the sound of his voice and the way Cecilio’s hairs stood on end. He could practically picture his amused face at Cecilio’s reaction.

He felt Carlow’s attention divert from him as a door opened to Cecilio’s left.

“I brought the stuff.” Came a voice, Cyrus, he recognized quickly.

“Thank you.” Carlow said, taking something and setting it down on a table somewhere along the wall in front of Cecilio.

He felt a new presence in front of him, Cyrus was likely crouching down in front of him, their eyes burning his skin as they looked him over.

“It’s kept its eyes closed so far?” They asked, and he could hear the amusement in their voice. Everything was amusing, everything was a joke. The world was a show for them to watch, and Cecilio had found himself playing the part of comedy relief.

Carlow must’ve given some sort of affirmation.

“Good Cici” Cecilio jerked as Cyrus began “petting” his greasy hair.

“Please don’t tell me you’re adopting Ilma’s nickname for it, too.” groaned Carlow, and it seemed like he was talking with his mouth half-full.

“It rolls off the tongue a lot better than ‘sacrifice’, don’t you think?” Cyrus said, “Plus, it’s so cute, it matches it perfectly.”

Carlow gave no verbal response, but took a few steps forward until he was once again right next to Cecilio.

The sound of chewing. Ah, so he was eating. The smell of peanut butter and jelly wafted down, and despite himself, Cecilio’s stomach growled.

“Awww,” Cyrus cooed, “the doggy’s hungry.”

“That’s a given, considering it hasn't eaten since yesterday morning.” Carlow responded before walking away.

“I don’t see the point in feeding it today, it’ll probably throw it all up anyway. I bet Lana it would.”

“Why you ever imagined you could win a bet against Lana is beyond me.” Carlow said, now back at the table from the other side of the room.

Cecilio felt Cyrus’s presence leave his vicinity, and Carlow’s re-enter it.

“There is a bowl of water in front of you,” Carlow said, finally addressing him. As though he hadn’t been discussing him like an interesting lamp for the past few minutes.

“You may drink from it, but you are still not to open your eyes. Understood?” Carlow continued.

Cecilio nodded.

“Good. Drink.”

With that command, Cecilio began lapping, grateful that it was actually water that met his tongue, at this point though, he wasn’t sure if he would’ve stopped if it wasn’t.

Lapping up water was, of course, a terribly inefficient way for a human to drink. As much water as he got in his mouth was flicked off his tongue.

The water bowl was pulled away, and he almost followed it, suppressing a whine. He had only had enough to wet his tongue and dull the headache he didn’t know he had.

He didn’t have too long to mourn though, as a sliver of metal pushed past his lips. He opened his mouth obediently, the grainy taste of dry dog food meeting his tongue when the spoon was pulled away.

“Chew.” came the command, and he did so, though much less enthusiastically than when he had lapped at the water. Admittedly, he thought as he swallowed, it was nice to have something in his stomach again.

A few grueling, sandy bites later and he was allowed to lap at the water bowl again, grateful to wash the taste out of his mouth and the grit from his teeth. 

Once again, though, right before he was satisfied, it was taken away again.

His displeasure was not unnoticed, it seemed.

“Don't worry, buddy, I'm sure it'll taste just as good coming up.” Cyrus said, harshly tousling his hair so hard they pulled out some strands in the process.

Cyrus stayed around chatting idly for a while. Whatever they and Carlow said were lost on Cecilio, as he retreated to his own mind again.

Behind his eyelids, light started to dance, and he genuinely couldn’t tell if it was his own mind creating the image, or if something was happening before him. A thought slipped through his periphery, maybe they had drugged him? To what end, he didn’t know. It was past lunch time, now, Carlow didn't “do” snacks. Whatever he was preparing took all morning, at least. Perhaps he was building a puzzle. Perhaps Cecilo would open his eyes inside a delicately placed structure, where one move could send him to a world of pain. It wouldn't even be the first time. However, Cyrus thought whatever they had planned for him would cause him to throw up, out of pain, or anxiety, he didn't know. That probably meant it was either something he hadn't seen before, or something so horrible that even if he did know it, there was no way to prepare.

The snippets of conversation happening around him gave him no clue, either. They would speak sparingly, about the weather, their tasks, Cecilio’s other torturers, but seemed equally content to do… whatever they were doing in silence. In fact, it had grown much quieter than it had been all morning. Cecilio no longer had any indication of what it was they were doing, aside from a faint smell he could not place, that made his nose wrinkle.

On top of that, Cecilio’s lower body was starting to go numb. Sitting in one position for hours on end, only a thin foam mat between him and the concrete floor, was worsening the aches from this morning. He didn’t dare shift, not when he still didn’t know if there was something waiting to hurt him should he move. His mouth was dry and his head was light. His stomach lurched, coaxed by the smell and the overwhelming silence that bore down on him.

He had just enough time to lean forwards, hands holding him up on the mat, before the meager contents of his stomach barreled back out, burning his mouth on its way. It took all his willpower to keep his eyes squeezed shut as he coughed up the last of the bile.

A beat of silence.

“I’ve just won a bet.” Cyrus said.

“Huh.” was all Carlow said in response, before dropping whatever it was he was doing and approaching Cecilio.

Despite himself, he whined. He knew he’d be punished for this, but it was almost a relief. He’d take anything they could do to him if it meant an end to this horrible waiting.

He felt a rag swipe roughly over his chin before a hand grabbed it, lifting it up.

“Open your eyes for me, Sacrifice.” was Carlow’s command.

He frantically glanced around him, finally hoping to know what they wanted to do to him that would take so long.

There was nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary save for some of the leather whips that Cyrus appeared to be polishing.

He looked back at Carlow, whose face was full of mirth. 

“Sometimes the anticipation of suffering is the worst part of it, don’t you think?” He asked.

He wasn’t… it didn’t… he had been fearing all day for… nothing?

“I was actually just planning on getting some maintenance done here in the workshop all day. See how long you could go… after all, why build this up so far just to give you relief? Lady Omelas would not be very happy with that, now would she?”

Cecilio felt overwhelmed. The bile that stung his nose made his eyes wet.

“But,” Carlow continued, “You did sully that mat, and the floor, and I can’t even have you clean it up, you’d just be in my way. I still have a lot to do, you know. However, I’m sure Cyrus would be delighted to chaperone you for the rest of the day.”

Cyrus’s eyes lit up, and they approached Cecilio eagerly, like a dog given a new chew toy.

“I think that that’s a wonderful idea,” Cyrus said, “especially now that all the knives are nice and sharp.”

[felixcosm]

Nate's hate for Malibu only makes me more determined to drink it

[ndcultureis]

(tw for vomiting mention)ND culture is sometimes working yourself so much up about eating sometimes that it makes you physically sick. (IK cause I get this sometimes)

.

[queer-cosette]

When you lose a lot of weight in one go, one thing people inevitably say to you is “wow, how did you do it? I wish I could lose that much weight haha”. It’s a phrase I am not a fan of (an understatement. I fucking hate the romanticisation of weight loss) but the circumstances that led to me losing the amount of weight I did in October 2021 (around 6lbs) fortunately allow me to be incredibly funny about it.

Basically, I came down with Norovirus, a charming pathogen that comes with the side effects of surprise projectile vomiting, overwhelming muscle fatigue, exhaustion so bad I could barely walk to the bathroom (the door of which is at an exact right angle to my bedroom door) without falling over, and inability to keep most foods down. I was laid out for a week or so and was incapable of digesting anything other than a few plain madeleines at a time. Naturally I lost a lot of weight as a result, but I would previously have been able to put it back on within a few months.

HOWEVER, the illness coincided with me finally getting prescribed a medication to help me function as an adult with severe ADHD. And a lot of ADHD medications, including the one I take, suppress the hell out of your appetite, meaning for a month or so before the Norovirus hit I had been eating smaller portions and snacking less in between. On top of that, my theatre classes were back on properly after two bouts of lockdown, meaning I was getting a lot more exercise. So yeah, all of these factors combined to make sure I've still not regained most of the weight I lost even a year later, and I’m straddling ‘underweight’ for my height.

Probably not great for my health. But it does mean that when people ask how I became so skinny, I can reply “Oh, I started doing meth.”

[evankinard]

I would be bummed if buddie doesn't go canon but if anyone ever refers to them as brothers I'd absolutely hurl

[positivelyqueer]

In the interest of harm minimisation: if you are self inducing vomiting, don’t brush your teeth afterward. The acid from your stomach is already weakening the enamel on your teeth, and brushing degrades it further (in this instance.) Rinse your mouth out with water instead (or use mouthwash/gum if you really can’t stand the taste afterward.) Look after yourselves.