aspiringhumanadult

Latest Posts by aspiringhumanadult

THROUGH A RAPIST’S EYES” (PLS TAKE TIME TO READ THIS. It may save a life, It may save your life.)

An Article from Neena Susan Thomas

“Through a rapist’s eyes. A group of rapists and date rapists in prison were interview…ed on what they look for in a potential victim and here are some interesting facts:

1] The first thing men look for in a potential victim is hairstyle. They are most likely to go after a woman with a ponytail, bun! , braid, or other hairstyle that can easily be grabbed. They are also likely to go after a woman with long hair. Women with short hair are not common targets.

2] The second thing men look for is clothing. They will look for women who’s clothing is easy to remove quickly. Many of them carry scissors around to cut clothing.

3] They also look for women using their cell phone, searching through their purse or doing other activities while walking because they are off guard and can be easily overpowered.

4] The number one place women are abducted from / attacked at is grocery store parking lots.

5] Number two is office parking lots/garages.

6] Number three is public restrooms.

7] The thing about these men is that they are looking to grab a woman and quickly move her to a second location where they don’t have to worry about getting caught.

8] If you put up any kind of a fight at all, they get discouraged because it only takes a minute or two for them to realize that going after you isn’t worth it because it will be time-consuming.

9] These men said they would not pick on women who have umbrellas,or other similar objects that can be used from a distance, in their hands.

10] Keys are not a deterrent because you have to get really close to the attacker to use them as a weapon. So, the idea is to convince these guys you’re not worth it.

POINTS THAT WE SHOULD REMEMBER:

1] If someone is following behind you on a street or in a garage or with you in an elevator or stairwell, look them in the face and ask them a question, like what time is it, or make general small talk: can’t believe it is so cold out here, we’re in for a bad winter. Now that you’ve seen their faces and could identify them in a line- up, you lose appeal as a target.

2] If someone is coming toward you, hold out your hands in front of you and yell Stop or Stay back! Most of the rapists this man talked to said they’d leave a woman alone if she yelled or showed that she would not be afraid to fight back. Again, they are looking for an EASY target.

3] If you carry pepper spray (this instructor was a huge advocate of it and carries it with him wherever he goes,) yelling I HAVE PEPPER SPRAY and holding it out will be a deterrent.

4] If someone grabs you, you can’t beat them with strength but you can do it by outsmarting them. If you are grabbed around the waist from behind, pinch the attacker either under the arm between the elbow and armpit or in the upper inner thigh – HARD. One woman in a class this guy taught told him she used the underarm pinch on a guy who was trying to date rape her and was so upset she broke through the skin and tore out muscle strands the guy needed stitches. Try pinching yourself in those places as hard as you can stand it; it really hurts.

5] After the initial hit, always go for the groin. I know from a particularly unfortunate experience that if you slap a guy’s parts it is extremely painful. You might think that you’ll anger the guy and make him want to hurt you more, but the thing these rapists told our instructor is that they want a woman who will not cause him a lot of trouble. Start causing trouble, and he’s out of there.

6] When the guy puts his hands up to you, grab his first two fingers and bend them back as far as possible with as much pressure pushing down on them as possible. The instructor did it to me without using much pressure, and I ended up on my knees and both knuckles cracked audibly.

7] Of course the things we always hear still apply. Always be aware of your surroundings, take someone with you if you can and if you see any odd behavior, don’t dismiss it, go with your instincts. You may feel little silly at the time, but you’d feel much worse if the guy really was trouble.

FINALLY, PLEASE REMEMBER THESE AS WELL ….

1. Tip from Tae Kwon Do: The elbow is the strongest point on your body. If you are close enough to use it, do it.

2. Learned this from a tourist guide to New Orleans : if a robber asks for your wallet and/or purse, DO NOT HAND IT TO HIM. Toss it away from you…. chances are that he is more interested in your wallet and/or purse than you and he will go for the wallet/purse. RUN LIKE MAD IN THE OTHER DIRECTION!

3. If you are ever thrown into the trunk of a car: Kick out the back tail lights and stick your arm out the hole and start waving like crazy. The driver won’t see you but everybody else will. This has saved lives.

4. Women have a tendency to get into their cars after shopping,eating, working, etc., and just sit (doing their checkbook, or making a list, etc. DON’T DO THIS! The predator will be watching you, and this is the perfect opportunity for him to get in on the passenger side,put a gun to your head, and tell you where to go. AS SOON AS YOU CLOSE the DOORS , LEAVE.

5. A few notes about getting into your car in a parking lot, or parking garage:

a. Be aware: look around your car as someone may be hiding at the passenger side , peek into your car, inside the passenger side floor, and in the back seat. ( DO THIS TOO BEFORE RIDING A TAXI CAB) .

b. If you are parked next to a big van, enter your car from the passenger door. Most serial killers attack their victims by pulling them into their vans while the women are attempting to get into their cars.

c. Look at the car parked on the driver’s side of your vehicle, and the passenger side. If a male is sitting alone in the seat nearest your car, you may want to walk back into the mall, or work, and get a guard/policeman to walk you back out. IT IS ALWAYS BETTER TO BE SAFE THAN SORRY. (And better paranoid than dead.)

6. ALWAYS take the elevator instead of the stairs. (Stairwells are horrible places to be alone and the perfect crime spot).

7. If the predator has a gun and you are not under his control, ALWAYS RUN! The predator will only hit you (a running target) 4 in 100 times; And even then, it most likely WILL NOT be a vital organ. RUN!

8. As women, we are always trying to be sympathetic: STOP IT! It may get you raped, or killed. Ted Bundy, the serial killer, was a good-looking, well educated man, who ALWAYS played on the sympathies of unsuspecting women. He walked with a cane, or a limp, and often asked “for help” into his vehicle or with his vehicle, which is when he abducted his next victim.

Send this to any woman you know that may need to be reminded that the world we live in has a lot of crazies in it and it’s better safe than sorry.

If u have compassion reblog this post. ‘Helping hands are better than Praying Lips’ – give us your helping hand.

REBLOG THIS AND LET EVERY GIRL KNOW AT LEAST PEOPLE WILL KNOW WHATS GOING ON IN THIS WORLD. So please reblog this….Your one reblog can Help to spread this information.

THIS COULD ACTUALLY SAVE A LIFE.”

Where are we on the tall, strong, and stoic character falling ill and being so unintentionally good at being discreet that no one catches on to their ailment until they're on the verge of collapse or until a particularly strong sneeze or cough is wrenched from their being.

Like they're not even trying to hide their symptoms, but they're just naturally so stoic and reserved they just. Don't. Until they practically can't anymore.

It’s all the little details in emeto that really give me the kicks you know.

Like the way their chin and lips are coated in slime and chunks after finishing…or the inside of their mouth, and maybe they’re still coughing and you can hear the mucus in their breath. Maybe they have long hair and it’s gotten sticky because they couldn’t pull it back. How they anxiously move their hands and switch their grip on whatever they’re holding on to before they vomit. The cold sweat that they’re probably too disoriented to even notice. Maybe they were naked and the thick slime and bits of food are stuck to their skin, on their tummy, legs, hands maybe, and it’s ever so slowly getting colder and drier. How their pained moans, retches and burps turn wet and sludgy when their throat is deluged in the contents of their own stomach…how all the different meals they ate come up one after the other, in different textures, some of it more digested and liquidy than the rest, mixing all together again in whatever container or surface they’re hurling in.

I love characters throwing up on themselves in settings where they can’t properly clean up. Like, forget all the cleaning wonders of the modern world, forget rain or water or anything, just put this poor hottie in the middle of a forest or desert and let them mess themselves all up in some delicious puke. And they have to keep wandering for hours or days on end in the same dirty clothes. 

Sickfic Prompts/Starters

“If you need something, just holler. Or cough really loudly if that’s easier.“

“If you mention food one more time, I swear I will eviscerate you.”

“We need to get you into a different shirt. You’ve already sweat through that one.”

“Please just don’t—don’t touch me.”

“What the hell are you doing on the bathroom floor at 3 in the morning?”

“I really can’t eat that right now. It’ll just come right back up.”

“I could probably fry an egg on your forehead. That’s how high your fever is right now.”

“Is that my sweater? I’m going to have to burn that thing now that you’ve contaminated it!”

“I know you’re exhausted, but you need to stay awake right now. I gotta get some medicine in you.”

“Please just sit down. You’re swaying on your feet right now.”

“I feel thoroughly disgusting.”

okay Look i love sounds a lot, i love description of burping/gagging/retching, but i feel like i don’t appreciate silent vomiting enough

a caretaker who’s cooking for the sick character. maybe they’ve got them bundled up at the kitchen table with a mug of tea while they stir the pot of soup with their back to the sick character. when they first hear the splatter of liquid on the floor, they think that the sick character must have spilled their drink, but the quantity of water seems too large, and when they turn around, they see that the sick character is vomiting all over the floor, silently heaving up wave after wave of liquid

or like i love the concept of sick characters trying to conceal illness, and taking it to the extreme with someone who’s trying to hide their vomiting while someone else is in the same room. they make almost no sound as they silently gag up mouthfuls of puke into their trashcan, but surely the other character will notice – maybe they can get away with it if they tie the bag and throw it away, but that all depends on the wave of illness passing soon…

More Snarky Whump Prompts/Starters

“Bet you $100 that’s infected.”

“I’m not going to coddle you this time, you made the choice to overdo it. Suffer the consequences.”

“One of these days, you’re not going to get back up.”

“You can’t keep rushing headfirst into danger and not expect get hurt!”

“I don’t know who told you you’re invincible, but you’re not.”

“There’s a difference between being brave and being stupid! I don’t know why, but you keep picking ‘stupid!’”

“Um…that is not how bandaids work.”

“I can’t tell if I’m more relieved you survived or angry you almost got yourself killed in the first place.”

“The shape you’re in, you couldn’t even take on a feather duster!”

“What happens when I’m not here to patch you up anymore, huh?”

“Did you make a deal with the devil or is your guardian angel working overtime?”

“You said you had a ‘small injury!’ This is not small!”

“The way you were downplaying this, I thought you stubbed your toe but there is bone coming out of your skin!”

“Sometimes I swear you’re trying to get hurt…”

“I warned you it wasn’t going to go well, but you didn’t listen.”

“You’re looking at weeks of wound healing here. Literal weeks!”

“You’re not familiar with the concept of taking it easy, are you?”

“I’d be surprised if you could make it down the hall without collapse.”

love it when I get a new favorite character and jump straight into wanting to see him on his hands and knees puking his guts out and burning up with fever

The mid-sentence “Whoa...” when they sway from dizziness, stumble and reach for the nearest object (or person!) to keep themselves from falling 👌

concerned starters send a sentence, get a drabble.  

“ wait here. i’ll go see what the noise was. ”

“ does it hurt? tell the truth. ”

“ eat as much as you can. you need to build your strength back up. ”

“ let’s get you into a clean shirt. you’ve already sweat through that one.”

“ don’t try to push yourself. ”

“ get behind me. ”

“ stay on the phone. ”

“ were you able to keep that down? ”

“ shh, it’s me, only me. ”

“ you can hold onto me if you’re scared. ”

“ small sips. there you go. don’t want you getting sick. ”

“ you need to calm down before you make yourself sick again. ”  

“ i’m sure that’s too much for you to understand right now. but i’ll be here the next time you wake up, and i’ll tell you again. i’ll keep telling you. ”

“ i won’t let you fall. ”

“ why? because i don’t want you to get hurt, that’s why. ”

“ are you stuffy? you sound stuffy. ”

“ can you take one more sip for me? ”

“ i know you’re exhausted right now, but you need to take your medicine. ”

“ you can use my jacket for a blanket. ”

“ i told you to stay in bed. ”

“ breathe for me, that’s it. all the way in, there you go. now out, good. now again, nice and slow. you’re doing so well. ”

“ leave your bandages alone. ”

“ do you need to lie down? ”

“ put this on, we’re going to the hospital. don’t argue with me. ”

“ all you need to worry about is getting better. ”

“ i carried you. ”

“ you should be in bed. ”

“ i’ll be right here when you wake up. ”

“ i know you can’t talk, but i just want you to know that i’m not going anywhere. ”

“ that needs bandages. ”

“ let your stomach throw up if it wants to. kneel down here and i’ll hold you. ”

“ i didn’t want to wake you. it’s been a long day. ”

post - trauma sentence starters  blood, death mention.

“don’t do that. don’t shut me out.” 

“you’ve been crying. i can tell.”

“we need to change those bandages and get some food in you.”

“you want me to rub your back ’til you fall asleep?”

“that was a brave thing you did today.” 

“shh, that’s okay, get everything out.”   

“there’s something on your shirt. you – that’s blood!”

“need some space?”

“you should lay down.”

“there’s nothing wrong with asking for help.” 

“shh, shh. you were having a nightmare.”

“we can talk through the door.” 

“let’s clean you up and get you to bed, okay?”

“you almost died.” 

“i brought you a blanket.”

“you’re home. you’re safe.” 

“i’m worried about you.”

“is everything okay?”

“tell me how to make it better.”

“it’s been a tough few days. how are you holding up?”

“you have to stay awake. come on, give my hand a squeeze.” 

“you’re in the hospital.” 

“think you can make it to the bathroom?”

“no, no. don’t close your eyes.”

gentle things  send a number, get a drabble. 

1: bringing them more blankets

2: feeding them soup

3: getting them to bed / the bathroom / etc.

4: post-nightmare comfort

5: pressing foreheads together

6: lap pillow

7: helping them into their pajamas

8: patching them up

9: leaving the waste basket nearby

10: hair ruffles

11: hand holding

12: tummy rubs

13: patting their face with a damp washcloth

14: running them a bath

15: humming / singing them to sleep

16: giving them medicine

17: back rubs

    concerned meme

“ are you okay? ”

“ you don’t look so good ”

“ sit down, you look faint ”

“ have you eaten today? ”

“ please, just rest for a minute please ”

“ i’m worried about you ”

“ what the hell happened? ”

“ did someone do this to you? ”

“ what’s wrong? ”

“ how long has this been going on? ”

“ why didn’t you tell me? ”

“ i can’t not care about you ”

“ don’t tell me you’re fine. this is not fine ”

one thing that i have more recently started thinking about is coughing before/while throwing up and ik it is not the most popular but here me out:

person has been involuntarily letting out nauseously coughs intermittently all day, and their friend thinks they just have a cold or something, but surprise! they are about to puke everywhere

the way a cough turns guttural and choked and then cuts off as vomit comes up

person with pneumonia/a chest illness has been having frequent and long coughing jags, and also has a lot of mucus and crap in their stomach from their illness. the repeated coughing and already unstable stomach is not a good combination

a cough morphing into a belch morphing into a wave of sick

when a person chokes on the force of their vomiting and triggers a coughing fit, but is still also vomiting and is struggling to catch their breath

coughs getting deeper and longer and more painful the closer someone gets to throwing up

a person who is both coughing and belching while vomiting, and the contrast of dryer and wetter sounds as they get sick

been thinking a lot about the buildup. that moment when nausea goes from uncomfortable to oh shit need to get to a toilet immediately, when it gets so strong the sickie gets dizzy and has hot-and-cold flashes and all they can do is pant over the bowl, saliva dripping from their lips, occasionally jolting forward with increasingly frequent wet hiccups and belches. 

they can feel the urge to heave sitting at the back of their throat but nothing’s coming up yet, just overwhelming nausea and the knowledge that they’re gonna be sick, they’re past the point of no return, but all they can do is sit there in absolute misery, waiting for it to happen.

Some good things about injury-based whump

Injuries that are so overwhelming the person can’t focus (esp in a still dangerous situation)

Injuries so painful/severe they cause fainting

Injuries so painful the person pukes

Dizziness/weakness from blood loss

Fresh injuries that keep getting aggravated too much to heal

Old injuries that start acting up

Injuries that looked to be healing but then got infected

Setting/resetting broken bones (especially in a makeshift setting without proper medical supplies or personnel)

Deep bruises that ache to the touch and take weeks to heal

Broken ribs that make it hurt to breathe, especially while you’re running away from danger

Trying to “power through” the pain, only to end up making the injury worse

Someone hurt struggling to take care of someone more hurt

Tasting blood and hoping it’s from a bitten lip and not a lacerated organ

A character concealing an injury they don’t think is that serious until they collapse because it actually is

Lingering weakness or pain even after the main period of recovery

Even better, lingering fear of whatever caused the injury

FEBUWHUMP 2021 PROMPTS

the prompt list is out! these prompts were chosen entirely from a poll that you guys filled out! the 28 days of february are filled (in a random order) with the top 28 prompts as voted for by you guys! the 10 switch outs are the next in your favourites, with a few write-in prompts too!

i look forward to seeing everyone create with these prompts, and if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to check out the blog’s FAQ and ask!

full write up of prompts and rules under the cut:

Keep reading

Lightheaded/Fainting Starters

❝Whoa, hey, you okay there?❞

❝Please don’t pass out on me–❞

❝Stay with me.❞

❝I think you need to lay down.❞  

❝I need to lay down. Like, now.❞

❝Can you help me sit down?❞

❝I think I’m gonna pass out.❞

❝I don’t feel so good…❞

❝I can’t move.❞

❝I can’t sit up.❞

❝Why is the room spinning?❞

❝When’s the last time you slept?❞

❝Do you need to eat something?❞

❝When’s the last time you ate?❞

❝I think I just need to eat something.❞

❝Let me get you some water.❞

❝Here, elevate your feet.❞

❝How much did you drink?❞

❝I think I drank too much.❞

❝Did you drink something? Did you take something?❞

❝You’re really pale.❞

❝Can you hear me?❞

❝Hey – you passed out.❞

❝Are you gonna pass out again?❞

❝I think I’m gonna pass out again.❞

❝Don’t sit up yet. Just relax.❞

❝This isn’t normal. You’re freaking me out.❞

❝Thank god you’re awake, I was about to call an ambulance.❞

❝You’re gonna be fine, I’m gonna call an ambulance.❞

❝What happened? Did I hit my head?❞

❝You hit your head pretty hard. Just stay down.❞

❝What happened? I just found you laying here.❞

Hey guys

A character who had only been running on adrenaline (or stress, coffe or anything of your choice) finally crashing down.

Shaky Hands- prompt fill

Okay so I did both, but this one is for Shaky Hands! 

 Cw nausea, vomiting (nothing gross tho, promise), panic (but not too explicit), references to disassociation, and Jon typical negative self talk and guilt.  Set post 159!  (Can be read as a sequel to my last fic if you like.)

Send me more prompts!  (Bingo card by @celosiaa​) The ones with stars are the ones I already have prompts for, the crossed out ones are the ones I have posted!  Send me a character, a prompt, and tell me if you want an art or a fic!!!!!!

Here it goes: 

Keep reading

I don't want to do stuff. I wanna sit here and think about characters so sick they can't walk.

Ditto to everyone in the delirium/hallucinations camp, especially with a side of some hellish fever dreams.

But also, dizziness and nausea/vomiting. When even though they're lying down, perfectly still, it feels like everything is spinning and wobbling harder than the nastiest tilt-o-whirl, and it's so suffocatingly hot on top of that and it's just too much, they know they're gonna puke soon, and they should really move so they don't make a mess or choke, but they can't because everything's spinning too fast and they can't even tell which way is up, let alone muster up the strength and coordination to go that way. And maybe they start to freak out a little as it sinks in that they no longer have any control over their own body, and that just makes it worse, panicked breathing turning their stomach even more and making them lightheaded, until they finally puke and/or pass out, unable to do anything about it except pray that when they wake back up, the world will be stationary again.

Whump Trope: Reblog with your favorite side effect of a high fever

boys with high fevers, half conscious, trembling against caretakers, begging. for a hot bath to help the chills. for caretaker to stop forcing water when they know they’ll only be sick again, for relief, for comfort, for sleep. a constant string of mumbled, tearful “please”s, whispered against caretaker’s chest. absolutely desperate. 

but a hot bath would only worsen the raging fever, dehydration is becoming a serious concern, and caretaker is almost powerless to provide any significant respite from this dreadful, miserable virus. so they can only hold boy gently, stroke his hair, hushedly reassure him everything will be alright, while the endless string of feverish pleading continues.

please, please, please, please

ive been Searching and Craving for any scenario/canon divergent au where jon and tim make up because jon shows tim thats hes just as much a victim as anyone else and tim is just like... ah. so we're both assholes. and jon insists that tim didnt do anything wrong (and obviously its all very whumpy and hurt/comforty). basically just... tim and jon making up because tim wants to after jon tugs at his heartstrings enough (because im a sucker for the whole "whatve i done" bit)

Here we go!! Sorry these are taking so long but I’m still working on prompts!!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26972698/chapters/67878991#workskin

Too Much Chapter 2!

Watching Martin remove the evidence of panic by carefully, slowly, swiping a damp flannel over Jon’s skin, Tim continued holding the cold pack in place. The man between them made a sound, nondescript, shifting enough that his lips parted with a soft sigh as he settled.

“He’s made a right mess of these.” Martin lamented, gingerly lifting one hand to examine the heavy bandages, soiled with fresh blood and coming undone. Not altogether certain he wanted to know what was hidden away beneath, Tim stayed silent. “Would you mind fetching the first aid kit while I get rid of these?” He used the time away to take a deep breath, attempting to gather his rampant thoughts now that he was roped into fixing up their boss. There was always the possibility of giving him the kit and hightailing it out of that place and never setting foot near document storage again but before he realized what he’d done he’d accumulated other supplies he figured they might need and the relief in Martin’s eyes when he slipped back into the room was palpable. Jon’s hands were bare, blisters laid over blisters, broken and bleeding sluggishly from torn welts, one palm layered over with a nasty burn. Tim couldn’t help the noise torn from his throat in sympathy as the walls he’d built around himself began to crumble under the weight of Jon’s wounds--and he wasn’t even the one to bear them! Jon had acquired more scars, more shadows in the gaunt hollows carved into his body by his bones since Prentiss. It was like laying eyes on a stranger, or opening his own and finally seeing what his negligent ignorance had truly cost.

Were these marks, this pain, not proof that Jon had every right to be scared? Paranoid? To suspect them? When it was his own “friends” raising hands violently against him?

“What. Martin, what happened?” He accepted the water, easing Jon’s arm over the edge of the bed and doing Tim the kindness of not reminding him that he’d never cared to know before.

“I couldn’t tell you what caused most of this, but you know. Daisy.” He swallowed, eyes narrowing as he dabbed away the worst of the scarlet slicking his skin and Tim saw red at the reminder. How dare she touch him. “Hush now, you’re alright.” Jon’s arm twitched, an aborted attempt to tug his hand away from Martin’s surely painful ministrations. “Just cleaning these up.”

“Hnn…” Saltwater-soaked lashes fluttered and damn his body’s reactions but Tim was at his side on the cot before he could blink and wholly unsure of what to do now that he was there, settling on running fingers through tangled curls, teasing out the knots as Martin worked. Clouded and slightly crossed, Jon’s glazed brown eyes peered up at him, through him, blinking slow, and Tim could feel the heat of his fever under his palms.

“Hey, bud.” Surprising himself with his own softness, Tim continued combing through his hair. “Close your eyes, boss. Marto’s fixing you right up.”

“Hur’s.” Badly slurred and tinged with vulnerability he wasn’t used to anymore, Jon’s voice sent a chill racing up Tim’s spine.

“I know.” He said anyway. “It won’t soon.” Trust and exhaustion won out, dragging bruised lids closed. “Martin.” Tim didn’t look up, tracing silver strands, so many, with the fingertips. “I would like to know. Please.”

Martin hummed, finished up the first hand, the worst hand, and cradled it over Jon’s stomach in a poor attempt at elevation before starting on the next one.

“I haven’t gotten much out of Jon--not because he won’t tell me!” He amended, remembering the promise Jon had made to be honest with them and clearly worried it would make Tim angry again if he thought he was keeping secrets. “He’s just. I mean.”

“I understand.” After leaving Elias’ office, whatever tenacity and fortitude Jon managed to scrape together after his ordeal with Daisy and Basira had faded quickly. Even Tim wasn’t able to ignore how bad off he was, more along the lines of being unable to explain than lacking any desire.

“I know she, she hit him. He’s bruised all over. Clocked him with her gun I assume, to leave him concussed--I still can’t believe I didn’t notice sooner.”

“It’s alright. We’ve all been. Preoccupied.” Some of them only with themselves.

“He was filthy, covered in dirt and I think bl’blood? Not his. Or, not all of it I think.” Martin rubbed his own neck thoughtfully, tracing a path that mirrored the red grin carving up Jon’s throat. “I think.” He looked into Tim’s eyes, haunted. “I, I overheard them saying he’d been made to d’dig a grave.”

“His grave.” There was no real proof, not yet. But it felt right. And Tim felt sick. “His hands.”

“The burn is bad, I don’t know how he got it.” A crease formed between Martin’s knit brows. “I. Tim.” He sighed. “You’ve been so furious with him.” He dragged both hands down his face. “Jon’s doing his best. Please, you have to believe that.”

“I think I’m beginning to.” He’d yet to stop his detangling. Jon liked when people he trusted played with his hair, especially when he wasn’t feeling well. Unbidden and effervescent, memories rose to the surface of Tim’s mind, each a different moment, beads of time strung on delicate silk strands. Sasha. Sasha, whose true face, true voice, had been written over and worn, her hands on Jon’s shoulders, working out the tension he carried there despite his complaints. Tim himself draping a cardigan over him where he slumped forward on his desk in Research when he succumbed to sleep. A rare moment at someone’s apartment, Jon three drinks in, flushed bright red and ridiculous, throwing himself into Tim’s lap and nuzzling his stomach until he got what he wanted; hands in his hair, on his back, honest to god cuddles. The embarrassment in the morning would paint him vivid with blush and he would accept the painkillers and tea with a shy grin.

That Jon was still in there.

Right?

For the first time in his career Tim chose to come into work early, heading immediately to doc storage to find Jon curled up against Martin, ruddy face squished against his chest and arm slung over his waist as though he’d recently been clinging there.

And if this had been another time, another universe, he would have teased them both, but the shadows under their eyes were beginning to match.

“We had a hard night.” Martin yawned hugely and Tim caught a quick glimpse of glassy brown at the movement but Jon passed out again in the next second. “Nightmares. You remember Crew?” Tim nodded. “Explains the vertigo. He’s going to want to work.” Martin’s palm found its way to the back of Jon’s head, tucked him under his chin as he exhaled, slow and measured.

“And you want him to rest.”

“He won’t.”

He didn’t.

But the dizziness kept him in his office for the most part and Tim helped keep an eye on him, checking up regularly, awkwardly. It was almost like old times. Except Jon was careful not to speak. Not now that he might force answers out of someone. Not now that he might be hurt because of it. Jon was smart. He tried to remember the things he learned because he only seemed to learn the hard way and right now he was trying to figure out Tim while Tim was trying to figure out himself, wary of the change towards him, confused when instead of lashing out, he asked if he needed anything.

“N’no, thank you, Tim.”

“It’s no trouble.” But it was physically painful to watch the gears turn as Jon balanced the possibility of pissing him off with how uncomfortable he was in this situation. “I’ll check back later, yeah?”

“Uh. Y’yeah. Yes. I mean, yes.” Nervously, he shifted between folders. “Of c’course.”

The day dragged and Jon’s fever and groggy exhaustion lingered, kept barely in check by Martin plying him with the painkillers and fever reducers because he refused A&E. It was frustrating, even if he was looking somewhat improved. When they caught him asleep it was often in the throes of a taxing nightmare. He was a shadow in his attempts to avoid them all, to focus on work, and now that Tim was paying attention he didn’t like how Basira was so cold, how Daisy made Jon flinch on purpose, how Melanie went out of her way to collide with him in the narrow hallways. How he was slight enough, unsteady enough that it sent him into the wall.

How he did nothing about it except murmur apologies and move past them as quick as he could.

Jon was back to pushing himself too hard, not bothering to ask for help because he’d never gotten any before so it wasn’t worth bothering with it now. He was alone. Deserted by everyone except for Martin--and oh the way his expression lit up at the sight of him. How soft his voice became when he thanked him for the tea. Tim knew Martin couldn’t see it yet, or wouldn’t let himself realize, but Jon was taken with him. Smitten. And already believed beyond a doubt that he had no worth. As prickly as Jon could be there was so much love in him just vying for a way out.

How could Tim have forgotten that?

Tim paced the length of the archives three times before heading back to check on Jon, alarmed when the office was empty. Worry, both familiar and unfamiliar, twined its way around his heart. He'd watched as the afternoon hours slipped by and Jon became worse and Tim didn’t bother asking anyone he came across; they didn’t care, he wasn’t supposed to care. But there weren’t many places Jon would go and Tim found him in the breakroom stabilizing himself on the sink. He didn’t react, didn’t turn, didn’t seem to know anyone was behind him, and Tim could make out shivery, deliberate breaths. Jon let go, lifting a hand dazedly to his forehead and staggering backwards such that Tim had to steady him.

“Whoa there, Boss.” Softly, quietly, Tim knew his head was still pounding more often than not no matter how adamant his denial. It didn’t stop Jon from flinching like he’d been struck or attempting to whirl around and only making it all that much worse as eyes filled with fear rolled back into his head and Tim had to catch him outright, lowering him to the floor and pillowing his shoulders in his lap. Unconsciously, he laid a palm over his overwarm forehead, dragging fingers back through damp strands rhythmically and wondering how he’d react to waking up with Tim staring down at him. They were dancing around each other, or at least Tim was. Jon couldn’t do much more than sit at his desk in what amounted to pyjamas and pretend to work in an attempt to wedge some normalcy back into his life.

“What happened?” At least now Martin’s inquiry wasn’t accusatory as he knelt beside them and checked over Jon himself. “How long?”

“Minute. Maybe two? He, uh. I surprised him and when he turned…” he trailed off, gesturing with a sigh.

“Ma’tin…” nothing more than a small breath of awareness in recognition of his voice, eyes still closed.

“You should be at your desk.” Lightly scolding.

“Nn...was col’...tea…” Tim met Martin’s eyes with worry at the barely coherent jumble of syllables caught on his sluggish tongue and he held up a hand, signaling him to wait.

“What’re we going to do with you, hm?”

“...Dunno…” He’d failed to understand the gentle ribbing for what it was, instead answering honestly, tearfully, and it tugged on Tim’s heartstrings. Martin chuckled kindly to ease the sting, moving forward to lift his weight off from Tim and standing still to let Jon wind a hand loosely into his jumper, hanging on for dear life with a gasp.

“You sound tired.”

“Mmyeah...tire’...” And that discordant admission alone was enough to cause alarm, doubly so when his body lost all rigidity in Martin’s hold.

“Martin--”

“Shh, Tim. He’s alright.” Protectiveness urged Tim to follow them back to document storage. Concern made him sit down before Martin asked. “Stay with him? I don’t want him to forget and wander off again. I’m gonna get that tea and something for the fever.” Tim supported his chin with a hand, elbow digging sharply into the top of his knee, and watched Jon sleep. With his eyes, he traced invisible constellations over the worm scars dotting his skin and connected their lines to the ink dark splash of lashes twitching as he dreamed. “What’re you thinking about?”

“How much running I’ve been doing.”

“Mm.”

“How much easier it was to ignore all this if I just hated Jon instead. Blamed him for it.” He lifted his fingers in a bitter and general indication of their unreasonably bad situation. “He’s made mistakes. We all have. And his are the only ones I’m not willing to forgive.” Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes, stung. “Why is that?” His skin blushed with heat when his voice broke on a sob and before Martin could speak they were interrupted.

“Head’spounding…” He could barely keep his eyes open.

“Ah, I’m sorry, love, I know, here,” he was like a rag doll when Martin lifted him. “This’ll help.” Tim watched the ease with which Martin navigated Jon. All sweet and kind, steadying his hands when they proved too shaky to hold the cup, testing his temperature with the inside of his wrist when Jon was distracted with swallowing down the medicine.

“Shouldn’t do this.” Whispered, lost and undone, as Martin tucked him in, gripping back tightly when Jon grew dizzy with the change. “M’sorry.”

“You say that too often, Boss.”

“Hush, both of you.” To Jon, “we can all talk later, when you’re feeling better. It’s okay to need help. It’s okay to rest.” And while he didn’t look convinced, he was helpless against the drag of that heavy, insistent tide of exhaustion.

“Never liked to owe people, our Jon.” Martin sighed, frustrated.

“It’s not a transaction. I wish he’d trust that I only want to help.” Tim snickered ruefully as Martin tucked stray salt and pepper strands behind Jon’s ears.

“He’s always been suspicious of decency.”

“That’s not right.” There was a lot wrong with it, and far too much to solve at this moment.

“You look knackered, Martin. Go home.” He needed caring for after keeping them all together like he’d done. “I’ve got it from here.”

“I don’t want to ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking, Marto.”

“Tim--”

“I need to. I. I need to do this.”

Tim was worried that the only reason Martin left him here alone was because he was too tired to spend another night here keeping an eye on the both of them. He only had himself to blame when it came to the loss of trust.

It was no secret his dislike of Jon.

He hadn’t forgotten his treatment of him just the other day. Yanking him up off the ground and shouting at him, blaming him for his confusion and unsteadiness, for worrying Martin while he’d been the one ill and frightened and unmoored on the dusty floor. A mournful cry jolted him out of his musings, and the nightmare didn’t sound kind, wrenching Jon awake and leaving him panting, narrow chest heaving, eyes wide and unfocused in the dim.

“Hey.” Soft and quiet, it didn’t stop Jon from jumping in surprise, nearly swooning when he jerked his head in the direction of his voice. “Back with me?”

“Tim.” Real surprise, he blinked hard, trying to clear his bleary vision. “Yeah. S’sorry.” Jon offered him a sheepish quirk of his lips.

“I’m the one who needs to apologize, Jon.” He swallowed thickly and Tim could hear the click in his throat, somewhere behind the bandage hiding that yawning red grin from sight.

“Wh’what?”

“I’ve treated you unfairly.”

“No, no, Tim. You. You had every right! I was out of line and suspected the worst with no proof and didn’t trust yo--” Jon was trying to get up, ignoring how it had to hurt, and when Tim made to stop him, he flinched in real fear and backed himself into the corner. “S’sorry. I. It’s, it isn’t you, I swear.” Guilt wrapped around Tim’s heart like a thorny vine at his stammering apologies, at the way Jon laughed at himself and scrubbed his face with the back of a bandaged hand, staring up at the ceiling as new tears pooled in his eyes. “A lot’s h’happened.” When he closed them, the damp rolled down his cheeks into the grey at his temple. “I,I,I know you don’t w’want to hear it. But I, I don’t have anything else left t’to offer and I’m so s’sorry.” Jon tucked up his knees and buried his tear-stained face in the blankets he pulled around himself. Scared and small and awaiting derision. Tim edged closer.

"Jon.” He reached out to touch and thought better of it. “I think. I think I'm ready to hear it now." Consumed by constant fear and torment, run ragged for months and months, when Jon risked glancing up at him Tim could finally look past his anger and see him. Flushed with fever, thin and drawn, bruised and beaten and burned.

But still Jon.

Still Jon, terrified of the kind of help he'd been taught by experience not to ask for. Not to accept. Not to trust. Not to need.

“No, n’no, Tim. It’s.” He sniffed, tried to offer Tim a watery smile. “M’not feeling w’well, heh. You know how I, how I am.”

“I know you don’t take care of yourself.” He continued before Jon could interrupt. “I know I’ve left you to deal with this alone.” Indeed, at the very first sign of trouble, Tim abandoned him to his own devices. “I understand why it’s been difficult to trust me.”

“Not just you.” Tim had to strain to hear him, voice tiny, wavering with misery. “It’s so hard to trust, I have to, to think about it, choose it, don’t I. Talk myself out of how a’afraid I am all the t’time. I can’t even trust myself, my words. I. They. It’s easier to not speak at all, if it can be helped. And I try. But. Tim.” Fraught, brown irises nearly swallowed by black pupil bored into him, begged him to listen, to see. “I’m a monster.”

“Jon--” He tugged at messy curls, ignoring the pain it had to cause, the spots of blood, and if Jon would let him, he would need to fix the wrappings after this. He’d folded into himself even tighter, rocking himself just slightly in an attempt at comfort.

“If everyone is saying it, it must be true. But I’m trying. I promise, Tim, I promise. I was hoping it counted for something, anything. I can’t. I.” He broke off, attempting to pull himself together, face contorted and when he noticed Tim’s stricken expression, stumbled on with half-thought out reassurances. “I, I won’t stop! T’trying, that is. I, I, I want to, to be better. I don’t want to hurt anyone. It’s not about counting, it’s about doing the right thing. Or something close to--it never seems to work out, I’m not. I keep doing the wrong things so I know--but I p’promise--and besides, D’Daisy’s watching, if you’re worried, heh.” He laughed, a little broken thing, tears glittering in his eyes. “She’ll put me d’down. If that makes you feel any better.”

And god how could he think Tim wanted that? Jon, living with the knowledge that any mistakes he made could lead to--

Hanging over his head. Just awaiting collapse.

“That’s. Jon, I don’t want her to do that.”

“Oh. Did.” Tim realized the pause was an attempt at managing his powers of compulsion. “Did you want to? Instead I mean?” Tim recoiled in horror at the genuine curiosity, the dull acceptance that they all might be waiting for their chance. Numbness flooded his fingers. And even though Tim knew Jon was trying to use the right words, the ones that would make him feel better, he was furious.

“How could you think that?!” Jon held up his raggedly bandaged hands, the blisters from digging his own grave and who knows what else hidden from view.

“I, I’m sorry, I. You’re right, that was stupid of me. I’m sorry, Tim, I’m sorry, I--” Tim cut him off by sweeping him into an embrace, pressing his face into his shoulder. He was little more than bones rattling around in a scarred and ruined skin, shaking in his arms, his own held away, stiff. Dear lord, what had he done? “T’Tim? I, I’m sorry I’ve upset you.”

“Stop it, Jon.” And he collapsed, spent from his outpouring, breath loud in Tim’s ear. “Just stop.” Tentative, Jon wrapped him up in return. “I’m going to do better.”

“You don’t--”

“I do. And I am.” Damp soaked into his sleeve despite the silence with which Jon sobbed, little more than uneven, ardent gasping as they clung to each other.

“B’but.” He pressed closer, starved for it. “I.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ve been so afraid.” Murmured against his shirt, Tim could feel the shapes of his words, the trembling of his lips.

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you. You mean. If, if you--I couldn’t stand it. If it wasn’t real.” Desperately, he whispered, thick with tears. “Don’t think I’d survive losing you again.” Too much loss. Too much all around and not one time had Tim thought about who he still had.

“I’m going to help you.” Tim realized then he’d been crying as well. “Like I should have from the start of this mess.” Gently, he pulled him away, took his damaged hands. “Let me get these fixed up. If Martin sees them, he’ll have both our heads on pikes.” For a moment, Tim was worried it was too soon, that Jon would need to hide this vulnerability from him, and he held his breath, until he nodded, just once.

It would take time, but they’d made a start.

Underrated emeto scenarios

I love characters puking from food poisoning, stomach bugs, motion sickness and overindulgence of alcohol as much as everyone else, but can we talk about some less common for someone to puke?

I’d love to see some sick fics with the following emeto scenarios:

1. Altitude sickness! People from low elevation areas can sometimes suffer when the altitude changes too much, and it can cause nausea and vomiting. Imagine a person from say, Florida, going to a place like Mt. Rainier in Washington, which is over 14,000′ above sea level. That’s a huge change, and someone who suffers from altitude sickness would be in for a really bad time. Plus, altitude sickness can affect anyone, wether or not they’re prone to motion sickness.

2. Ear infections! Specifically, the type with internally dripping fluid due to an inner ear blockage. Swallow too much of that stuff and you’ll be feeling really sick. The sick character would likely be dizzy as well, and they might need someone to help them get to the bathroom.

3. Concussions! I’m not talking life threatening knockouts, but more minor head injuries. Unlike movie characters, real people can’t simply walk off a concussion. If you get knocked out for more than a couple seconds, you’ll probably feel really sick and throw up upon waking. Even if someone doesn’t get fully knocked out, head injuries will often make people puke. Emeto + injury = A+ whump.

4. Zinc poisoning! This one is rather obscure to people who don’t work in the trades, but the whump potential is great. There’s a reason why welding is done in a well ventilated area: the zinc galvanization can cause vapors that make you sick. When welding galvanized metal, the zinc coating needs to be ground off. If it gets too hot, it can release harmful vapors that might make you dizzy, nauseous and cause you to puke. 

Look, “I don’t feel very well” followed by some physical expression of illness/vulnerability, up to and including straight-up passing out, will always sweep the legs out from under me. That’s just the way life is.

Okay a heatwave is crashing thru where I live rn so time to bring back Being Sick in Hot Weather! (some based on my experiences)

Sickie mistakes their fever for it just being super hot, cue trying to cool themselves down to no avail

Maybe their fever gets worse overnight and they find out in the morning *shrugs*

Or they’re shivering and feel cold? Which tips off their SO/roommate/friend/etc cuz they’re in the middle of the heatwave

Leaving their window open to get some cool night time air in only for it to backfire in the morning

Their already sore throat is worse, their throat and nostrils are dry

Maybe something theyre allergic to got in and now they’re all sneezy on top of being hot and sick

Can’t 👏 sleep 👏 too 👏 hot

Or alternatively: the warmer weather is constantly lulling them into micronaps throughout the day

Just getting frustrated cuz it’s So Hot and they feel Horrible 😭