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#nausea tw
elloras · 7 months
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Ted Lasso: The Strings That Bind Us
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transmasc-wizard · 1 month
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hello all i have written some backstory lore for my dnd character to send to my girlfriend and i am now making it everyone else's problem
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nyeh :3
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redpenship · 3 months
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i posted starline's intro for his first chapter so here's sonic's!! --
Sonic was sick often. It happened at random; sudden, brief illnesses that wracked his body and typically left within a day’s time. They most commonly manifested as headaches and nausea, but he was sometimes prone to chills and feverish symptoms as well. He dreaded the fevers more than anything else—they tended to last a bit longer, knocking him off his feet for days at a time. Since there was nothing he hated more than staying still, finding himself bedridden with a fever was always a nightmarish experience for him.
There was no definite cause for his condition. The only time he’d seen a doctor about it was when he was fourteen, after a three day-long spell of nausea made Amy so nervous that she consulted the resistance’s medic against his will. The medic had asked him a few questions about his past, felt his stomach and listened to his heart, and then expressed her professional opinion: Sonic wasn’t sick, just extremely anxious.
Psychosomatic was the term she’d used. Apparently, his brain was sick enough that it was making his body feel sick, too. It didn’t make a lot of sense to him. During Eggman’s occupation of the East Pacific islands, he’d never felt scared—only very, very angry.
Her diagnosis especially didn’t make sense now, a whole year after Sonic had found Tails on Cocoa Island and learned the truth behind Eggman’s success. The little fox had singlehandedly purged every potential source of stress from the world, freeing not just the two of them but every other animal on the planet, too. There was nothing left for Sonic to fear.
And yet, here he was, kneeling on the grass of a mountain’s crest as he tried not to throw up his breakfast. He’d come up here to watch the sunrise. Instead, he could only manage brief glimpses of the horizon as he was forced to close his eyes to concentrate on overcoming wave after wave of nausea.
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zillanovikov · 11 months
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My friend Dale has a problem. Well. He's Gen X. He has many problems. But Tumblr can solve two of them for him.
1) His Tumblr profile pic is a default image and he looks like he's gonna spam everyone with bitcoin links. (@dalestromberg what are you doing with your image, this is embarrassing, even the prawnbots have better profile pics)
2) He's republishing his book and he can't decide on a cover. The book is called Melancholic Parables. It's a bunch of tiny stories that read like Tumblr shitposts (/affectionate).
These are the three potential new covers.
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I have somehow gotten him to agree that whatever wins this poll, he will use as his new profile pic. I mean, it's not like he put an ASCII p33n on the cover, they're all SFW pics.
A sample story is below, because it's a weird book and this is the best way to give you the flavour. You can read thirteen of the stories for free on his website. You can even buy the book, if you're into that kinda thing.
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"There are worse things"
"Kauri." It's Nat's voice behind him. He doesn't look up, just breathes deep where he hunches over the sink. Nausea rolls through him in wave after wave, cold sweat trickling down his temples, his neck, alongside his ribs.
His heart pounds, a terror entirely physical washing away everything but the panic, the adrenaline, the sense that any moment he will die from this.
He tightens his grip on the metal edge of the sink until his knuckles are white.
"Jus'..." He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, but his hand is so sweaty and wet it doesn't feel like it helps at all. "Just give me a second, okay? Think I picked up a... a flu or something..."
Nat is quiet, but after a few moments he feels her hand rubbing his back, gently maternal. The scent of her perfume somehow doesn't make it worse. She has dark hair loose and wavy from having been in a braid before, and his blurry vision keeps wanting her to be someone else. Someone he doesn't know, can't know, because if he has to have a headache on top of this he might actually just give up and die.
"You should stop taking them," She says. She doesn't say what. She doesn't have to.
"Oh, don't worry about me. Once I get some more-" His stomach tightens suddenly and he shoves himself fully over the sink, but all that happens is a flood of sour spit and a dry sob. "... I'll-... I'll be fine." Is he panting? His words are airy, barely breathed.
"Kauri-"
"There are w-... worse things than this," Kauri manages, voice thin. She brushes a little hair back from his face. The sobbing comes again, but not dry this time.
This time, he finds tears.
His heart pounds so loud it drowns out everything else. He's going to die. He's going to die.
He left Owen and he sleeps with other men and he's going to die.
"Kauri-"
"Worse things... I've d-done them all. I mean, I did O-Owen, right?"
He laughs, but there's an edge of hysteria to the brittle sound, and his stomach twists again.
She rubs his back as his stomach roils and his muscles burn and his shirt sticks to him like Owen's eyes, and he knows once he feels better he'll head back out, climb the back fence, and he won't even say thanks before he goes.
He can disappear into a drink or a pill or powder or whatever he can find and maybe this time they'll tell him to not come back.
Maybe this time they'll see he doesn't deserve to come back.
-
@finder-of-rings  @endless-whump  @arlin-always-writing  @thefancydoughnut  @newandfiguringitout  @doveotions  @pretty-face-breaker  @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow  @boxboysandotherwhump  @oops-its-whump  @cubeswhump  @burtlederp  @nonsensical-whump  @whump-tr0pes  @autophagay  @whumptywhumpdump  @whumpiary  @orchidscript  @outofangband  @eatyourdamnpears  @hackles-up  @grizzlie70  @mylifeisonthebookshelf  @keeper-of-all-the-random-things
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ziptiesnfries · 10 months
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amputation and reanimation could be funny and silly
You're right, it could be! Coming right up: body horror with a dash of absurdism.
Content warnings: body horror*, amputation, medical/laboratory setting, restraints, mentions of nausea
*Context: a limb is detached and reanimated separately from its owner
The test subject groaned, turning their head to the side. Their vision swam as they struggled to keep their eyes open. Their left arm throbbed. What … happened?
“Oh, good, you’re awake. I wanted you to see this.”
The voice was fuzzy, but it still snapped the subject to attention, sending a jolt of adrenaline through their system. The doctor. The operating room. Their …
They were still restrained to the operating table, with straps across their forehead, their chest, their wrists—but they blinked rapidly as they looked down, almost unsure of what they were seeing. Why couldn’t they see their left arm? For a few moments, their eyes lingered on the empty spot where it should have been, before they realized that it was still there. Their upper arm was, anyway. But it ended in puckered, stitched-up skin right below their elbow.
The blood drained from the subject’s face. A choked noise escaped their mouth as they began to hyperventilate. What did he do to them?
“Hey.” Fingers snapped, and the subject’s bleary gaze darted over to the doctor. “Eyes up here. I want to show you my experiment.”
The doctor stood off to the side, next to a smaller metal table. On it sat the subject’s arm—the other half of it, lying there limp and bloodless. Wires and electrodes snaked out from it, and there was some kind of metal piece on the end, where an elbow should have been—where it should have been attached to the subject’s body.
Bile crawled up the subject’s throat, and they struggled to swallow it back down. “What—what did you do?” they croaked.
The doctor frowned. “You know how I feel about stupid questions, my dear.”
Their breathing picked up again. Stupid questions? Their brain couldn’t process it, any of it: their arm detached from their body, the doctor’s words … What the hell was going on?
When they failed to respond, the doctor sighed. “The what is fairly obvious: I amputated your arm, of course. But the why is much more interesting.” He grinned, moving over to a large levered switch on the wall.
When he pulled it, the wires in the arm—their arm—crackled with electricity. Sparks flew in all directions as the arm shook and spasmed unnaturally under the currents. The subject watched in morbid fascination, unable to tear their gaze away as their nausea built.
Finally, the doctor switched it off again. The arm fell still, but the doctor continued watching it, and so did the subject—they weren’t sure what else to do.
The index finger twitched. At first, the subject thought it must be their imagination, just a trick of the light, but then—the other fingers began moving, too. The fingers deliberately lifted up and brought themselves down, one by one, in a familiar motion that made the subject’s stomach flip. That was one of their fidgets, something they did when they were bored or anxious. But they weren’t the one controlling the movement right now.
The doctor grinned broadly, laughing. “What a success! It can move completely on its own now.”
The subject wanted to ask why, but they found themself unable to speak, their eyes glued to their arm—their former arm. It was still moving, the fingers wiggling around experimentally, the wrist flexing. The fingers curled, and the arm began to rise up, balanced on its fingertips. It took an experimental step, inching forward, the thumb positioned in the back for balance. It was walking.
The subject was vaguely aware of the doctor laughing in delight, babbling about how he hadn’t expected this to happen so quickly. But the sound of his voice, mercifully, began to fade along with their vision. As the subject’s eyes rolled back, the last thing they saw was their arm balanced on its fingertips, hobbling across the metal table.
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succiducus · 1 month
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commotion had made him foggy; lockdown had made him a recluse; he doesn't attend the party in favour of being in isolation, away from the reminder that he would not be going home any time soon. it was the only safe haven for him other than the prayer room. if he left it, the arguments he had with his sister-in-law would haunt him; long walks by khan's side would fizzle into his memory if he walked the ones here; however, in the late evening, he walks the corridors. they weren't empty nor were they bustling; but they were quiet and the sultan supposed that it was the best he would get. dark eyes scan a wall of portraits, his mind awash in fog until a familiar one tugs him out. what was the meaning of this? his husband's face stared back at him in inks and paint; an anger rushes over him but it's quickly followed by a tremble of his lip; a memory flashes of edema; of wound and paleness; of the colour of iron that soaked cloth and water - the back of his hand covers mouth as a precaution to the nausea that builds in his throat. it's whisked away by facade as another approaches; after-all, he was supposed to have grieved, wasn't he? ( @flcralhaze / @royallyxmessy / @rvnstheworld - any muse + sofia)
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i-eat-worlds · 2 months
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🔪👨‍⚕️🧽🪣🔫🧤 for the ask game
thanks for the ask, nonny!
set during Alex’s time undercover with Zorland
cw: medical whump, pain, gun shot injuries, medical abuse/neglect, nausea, needles, narcotic mention, graphic depiction of surgery w/o anesthesia, probable medical inaccuracies
Alex watched the lights of Zorland’s back room as she was unceremoniously dumped onto the cold metal exam table. Her leg was throbbing, icy-hot pain emanating from the bullet burrowed in her thigh. It must’ve been bad, since they’d taken her straight to medical instead of Zorland. The room cleared out, and she waited for the unforgiving touch of the healer’s hands as he strapped her down to the table.
It didn’t come. Instead, someone else she didn’t recognize stepped into the room.
Was this some new test? Zorland poking and prodding further to see if she would break? Only time would tell.
“Did they just fucking leave you here?” They asked incredulously, eyebrows furrowing. There was a tired sigh, and then the sound of a stretching latex.
A face appeared in her vision. “Can you tell me what happened, sweetheart?”
She laid there in silence for a moment, words caught in her throat. Normally, the healer didn’t ask questions.
“Shot. Left thigh,” she said, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice.
“Anywhere else hurt?” They patted their hands down her body, feeling around for other injuries.
She shook her head, resisting the urge to flinch at all the little touches. It would be over soon.
“Great. I’m going to take a look at your leg now, hun.” There was a firm hand on her ankle, and then her pants started to be cut away.
It took everything she had in her to not rip her leg away from the healer’s hands. Just because they weren’t the usual guy didn’t mean they wouldn’t report every whimper and wail back to Zorland.
“Bleeding’s stopped,” they noted in a tone that was almost upbeat. “I’m going to look for an exit wound now.”
Alex grit her teeth as the healer’s hands slid closer to her inner thigh, trying to ignore the deep feeling of wrong that rolled through her gut. They quickly inspected her leg, and she did her best to not inch away.
“I’m gonna start an IV, and then I’ll sort your leg.” The smell of alcohol wipes burned the air. “Any allergies, sweetheart?”
“No.” Not that she knew off, anyway. Still, it was odd that she was even asking. The normal guy rarely gave her anything, with the occasional exception of saline.
“I’ve no controlled, but I’ll do what I can for the pain.” They sunk the needle into the top of her hand.
Pain medication. What a fantasy that was. Zorland, apparently, drew the line at illegally acquiring narcotics.
“I’m also going to give you an antiemetic. My powers tend to make people feel nauseated, so it’ll help.” After the explanation, the healer quickly pushed the meds and moved on.
A blanket was spread across the upper half of Alex’s body. It wasn’t thick, nor was it very soft, but it was something. The back room was always freezing, so it was still appreciated. They let Alex down four ibuprofen, and they also set a bucket by her head, “just in case.”
How nauseous did her powers make people?
There was an awkward lull of activity while the healer prepared for the procedure ahead, setting out their tools, scrubbing their hands, and sliding on a new pair of sterile gloves.
Alex did her best to keep still while the healer worked. For some reason, the lack of restraints was jarring. It wasn’t that she liked them, it just felt wrong for them to not be there. Her wrists felt too light, and the lack of pressure across her hips made it feel like she was going to float away.
The ibuprofen started to kick in, though it barely made a dent. “This is going to hurt, there’s no way around it,” the healer said, almost apologetically. “It’s alright if you scream. If you need a break, just let me know, yeah?” As they spoke, they gently used a sponge to wash the dried blood away, then swiped betadine around the wound.
Alex wasn’t stupid enough to fall for that particular trick. At least the guy was nice enough to give her the rod, but she’d probably be able to pull through without biting her tongue off. Probably.
“I’m going to have to remove the bullet before I can heal you.” They spread a drape over her leg. “It’s going to suck but you’re going to be okay.”
In preparation, she wrapped her hands around the sides of the table, trying to steady her breathing. She’d had worse. She’d had so much worse.
The healer made the first incision, dragging the scalpel along the edges of the wound to widen it. Alex grunted, face twisting in pain as she dug her fingernails into the metal. Two fingers plunged into the wound, scissoring it open.
She just wanted it to stop.
Cold metal forceps dug into the wound, searching for the bullet. Her leg twitched on the table, a useless attempt to throw the healer’s hands o of her. “We’re nearly done,” they said, but Alex couldn’t really hear them.
They pushed further, until they finally stopped. “Got it.” They said, yanking the bullet out of the wound and dropping it on the floor. “All that’s left is to heal it.”
Darkness glimmered in the corners of her vision. It would be all too easy to just let go.
Fire ared in her leg as the healer started to work. “You’re doing great, sweetheart,” they said as Alex’s flesh slowly started to knit itself back together. Bile burned the back of her throat, and she reached for the bucket.
“I gotcha, just a little bit longer,” they said, voice soft. The sentiment was nice, but it was overshadowed by the absolute agony that was tearing through her. Her vision was lled with stars and spots, and she didn’t ght them as they clouded over and pulled her under.
The emptiness was home.
Taglist: @pigeonwhumps @rainydaywhump @painful-pooch @rainbowsandwhumperflies
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wisteria-whump · 2 years
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things that are apparently supposed to help with nausea
im writing this with the intention of it being used for sickfics or whatever but i guess it could also work if you just actually don't feel well
basically any food/drink with ginger because it reduces inflammation (i think??) mostly ginger ale and ginger tea are recommended for nausea because you're obviously not really gonna wanna eat if you're nauseous, but i think that ginger snaps are nice if you're nauseous and hungry at the same time.
peppermint because it also reduces inflammation (i think)! my personal favorite forms (for the purpose of making your character quirky and different and shit) are those little lifesaver mints, mint leaves, and copious amounts of peppermint tea.
the smell of lemon! apparently there was some sort of study done with this but ive never tried it.
smelling those rubbing alcohol wipe thingies! ive also never tried this one but ive heard that it works really well.
any non caffeinated soda. i think it's something to do with the carbonation and the sugar. carbonation always makes me feel a little better so 🤷‍♀️
that pressure point on your wrist! i think this is what those anti-carsickness bracelets do? idk ive only heard of them ive never actually seen them. i think this is supposed to be used more as a preventative thing and not a cure for nausea that's already happening.
deep breaths! i hate deep breaths! they kinda work tho
distraction! this one is just one that i do bc my nausea is 80% not caused by actual sickness so distracting myself makes me feel better.
an ice pack on the back of the neck. ive never tried this one but ive heard good things about it.
crackers! theyre supposed to like reduce the extra acid in the stomach which is supposed to make you feel better. in my experience they work especially well for when you're hungry and nauseous at the same time.
now for placebo things ive convinced myself help with nausea, because ALWAYS remember that your character can have remedies that don't scientifically make sense but it's a placebo effect so it works for them. these are just my personal ones, you can come up with basically anything for this category.
sleeping while sitting upright instead of laying down! i swear laying down makes me feel worse.
pacing! i actually stopped doing this one years ago because it's not really a good idea to walk around the house if i think i might be sick because like... i don't wanna do that on the floor
ive heard people say that sitting on the bathroom floor makes them feel better but i don't like touching the bathroom floor so i cannot confirm.
freezing! when im nauseous the first thing i do is shed as many layers of clothing as i can and then turn on every fan in the room and let myself freeze.
sitting in bed! not laying in bed, not sitting literally anywhere that is not my bed, it specifically has to be sitting in my bed! i swear sitting literally anywhere else makes me feel worse.
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solstice-snakes · 11 months
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medical discussion tw:
had a really bad POTS flare tonight. had fuckin full body convulsions and muscle cramping in my spine and my already fucked to hell shoulder. had vertigo and horrendous nausea. had a migraine. like absolutely nothing ive had before. it was really really really scary. luckily were able to handle it at home by eating salt and rehydrating but that was excruciating.
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cannotfly · 7 months
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@thisshadeofred's mackenzie mcfulton sent: “you should lay down.”
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as her stomach grows rounder, she becomes more desperate in her actions. pushing herself further and further until she feels too weak to stand and someone has to intervene. there's so much to be done. working during the day, attempting to get things done for the baby in the evenings, paperwork, appointments, endless amounts of worries. it's often that someone -- a coworker or her husband or in this case, mac -- has to tell her to slow down. ( stress isn't good for the baby, johanna, she reminds herself, while becoming more stressed about how stressed she is. )
❝ i'm alright, ❞ she mumbles. there's little dark spots in the corners of her vision. it wouldn't be the first time she passes out. what it's due to now is impossible to tell. it's too easy to become dehydrated now. is it the weight on her shoulders growing worse and worse day to day? she blinks -- squeezing her eyes close for longer than she intends to before opening. ❝ it's fine, mac. i don't need to lay down i'm just feeling a tad lightheaded. everyone feels lightheaded sometimes and they can push through it. i do the same thing. ❞ she doesn't like to be treated like she's made out of glass. some people don't seem to realize that she isn't an empty jar of peaches. ❝ i'm not even feeling sick anymore, remember? i'm more than five months in that this point. i just . . . i'm fine. ❞
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ventasaurus · 7 months
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So I didn't eat a ton today and Im feeling really nauseous so I kinda hope that means I'll be loosing more weight shortly... If yk what I mean
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jofms · 9 months
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@drvgonbvnny at the creamery ice cream and coffee bar (again)
it had been no fault of the purchase or the staff members when sudden nausea set into the woman, causing josette to quickly abandon her belongings and lock herself in to the available toilet facilities to empty the little that was in her stomach. knees pressing into to cold floor, she'd spend several minutes there, minutes that would feel like hours as she waited for the feeling to subside and for her body to stop shaking. slowly pushing herself up, she flushed, washed her hands and the outside of her mouth before she emerged back into the main café. walking slowly back to her table to get some money for water, she thought her eyes were deceiving her when she's seen dustin. the hairs on her arms stood up once more, making her feel the chill through her sweater despite the sweat on her forehead. the woman was aware she was staring but for the first time in a long time, she couldn't find the words to address him - she was just staring at him with clearly desperate eyes, the root of that desperation unknown. "i need to, um-" breath shaky, she felt dizzy. "get some water. do you want anything?" breaking her stare, she turned to her bag, overly rummaging in the small thing to pick out her wallet before accidentally dropping it. "fuck." josette was sober yet an onlooker would have assumed she was drunk from how she was behaving.
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papermccn · 10 months
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closed starter for howl !! @tragcdysewn
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❛ we’re gonna survive this, right? ❜ the vampire asked them; feeling her anxiety at an all time high.. she may be immortal but still she worried for her friends- even someone she took interest in; a crush.. the thought that they could all be gone- had her nauseated.. it's a thought she never truly had as an immortal- the realization that you live forever- while everyone else doesn't.. "-right? -i don't want to lose any of my friends. -especially since you all been so nice to me."
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carcarrot · 4 months
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betrayed by my beloved pesto
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inscrutable-shadow · 6 months
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Whumptober 2023 Day 1 - Brick to the Face
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@whumptober-archive
No.1: "But now this room is spinning while I'm trying just to fill in all the gaps."
Safety Net | Swooning | "How many fingers am I holding up?"
contains: nausea (no vomiting), concussion, mild gore
also available on ao3!
“Whoa, Rhys, you okay? How many fingers am I holding up?”
Rhys’s head rang and his vision tilted as he tried and failed to sit up. He couldn’t remember how he’d ended up on the ground to begin with. One moment he’d been rushing through the forest with Landon, chasing a bounty target, and the next he was looking up at the stars through a hole in the tree canopy. “Ugh… Four? what happened?”
“She got you with these,” Landon replied, holding up a set of stone weights attached with rope. “Bolas. Lousy throw, though. Usually, you aim for the legs, but these smacked you right in the forehead. Surprised you’re still kickin’, to be honest.”
He probably wouldn’t be if he were still human. One of the good things vampirism had done to him was strengthen his body so it resisted being smashed to pieces. A thinner skull would have caved and turned his brain into mush, but he’d gotten away with just a massive headache and probably minor brain damage which would heal in a day or so if he got a blood meal. Which he still intended to do. He tried to stand for a second time and found himself once again watching the world spin above him.
“Whoa, dude, holy shit, you passed out on me. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine, I just… feel sick when I stand up…” He felt sick lying down, too, actually. Had he passed out, or just fallen?
Landon frowned. “You should probably stay down, then, man. We’ll try for the Nightstalker another day. She’ll turn up again, you and I’ll get that bounty, don’t you worry.”
Rhys was having a hard time keeping his thoughts together, but one word did cut through the haze: bounty. Yes. He was a mercenary, collecting bounties was his job, how he got money and most of his hunts. He needed to finish the bounty, to catch the woman. They wanted her alive, but maybe he could drink her a little? That would fix him right up. It probably took a lot of blood for the Shadow to fix his brain. He was so hungry…
This attempt at lurching to his feet was mostly successful, though he was leaning heavily on Landon, who protested. “Hey, buddy, like I said, give it a rest. You don’t look so hot. Pretty sure I’m the only thing holding you up.”
It was true enough. Rhys’s knees had given out almost immediately, given that it took every ounce of willpower he had not to lose what little blood was still in his stomach. He panted heavily through his nose and wished the stars would leave his vision. He didn’t want to give up on this. Some of it was not wanting to look weak in front of the other mercs when Landon had to drag him back to the tavern to heal up, but mostly he just didn’t want to be shown up by a mark. The rational part of him knew what he had to do though. 
“Give… my scythe, yeah? Won’t make you carry me.” The weapon was lying discarded on the forest floor, and Landon scooped it up with his foot and pushed it into Rhys’s hands. The familiar shaft was comforting, in its own way, and he wasn’t above using it as a walking stick. He still needed Landon’s help, but this way it looked less like he’d nearly died and more like he was fine and just needed to regroup a bit.
“You’re a beast, dude. Glad I got assigned to you, huh? I’d be dead if I were out here alone!” Landon joked, trying to lighten the mood. “Come on, let’s get you back. Next time I get a lead on the Nightstalker I’ll be right at your door.”
Rhys hoped so. He knew exactly what, or rather who, he wanted his next meal to be.
taglist: @milkshakes-lust-and-chiral-dust, @albatris, @thethistlegirlwrites, @athenswrites
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