I'm only here for the sickies

| Chuu | 23 | she/her | dedicated to emeto and whump | commissions are CLOSED | requests are temporarily CLOSED | asks are always welcomed | CURRENTLY ON BREAK

[emeto-secret-agent]

A few things for this blog

This is a kink blog so keep that in mind

Minors don't interact

Mainly emeto, scat and whump blog but I'm open to other kinks too

I write for fandoms and OCs too

My fandoms

My OCs

My writings

Commission Information

My Ko-Fi <3

I won't write things that make me uncomfortable

Also I don't do roleplays sorry

This is it, and I hope you'll have a good one <3

[ethereousdelirious]

How tf do people get fic ideas that aren't sickfic.......

[ifeelyucky]

Back at it again, puking my little guts out after drinking three bottles of sparkling water >< I had to run from my bed to my container cuz I wasn't expecting it to happen so fast 😭 It was actually kinda hard to get it all out, so I had to drink another bottle to get everything back up. Just listen to me whimper and retch..

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Photo of aftermath after cut.. ough there was so much this time....

[danafeelingsick]

i seriously gotta make a new sheet, but hey

Art Commissions are OPEN!

terms of service

you can request one directly through this forms or contact me through any of my socials! i'm open to most kinks, and also do n.sfw

would help me a lot rn

[emeto-secret-agent]

It's weird being the older sister while you know you were meant to be the middle child

[burpyurpybabes]

Thursday, 7:53am. The morning is starting slow. Your alarm has gone off four or five times, dreading you out of a bleary comfort your pillows and duvet have afforded you. You have to get up, you have to put your feet on the floor and stand. You have thirty minutes to get presentable and leave before you're late for work. You have the same routine every morning, yet somehow you forget to take your meds three times before you finally remember. The aching dread that comes at the end of the week has begun to settle over you; you're less focused, drawn to scrolling on your phone while you bluster through your morning routine hazardously. You stayed up too late last night, you're regretting your decision. You don't want to go to work today, but you can't call in. Typical Thursday.

8:37am You're running a little behind, but if you're lucky and don't hit too much traffic, you should be able to make it to work on time. You managed to make yourself a coffee and microwave breakfast burrito to eat on the way in. Your stomach growls and saliva pools under your tongue. You didn't eat quickly enough after taking your meds, the nausea starts to kick in. You cough a few times, swallow your spit down and pray. You force yourself to take a few large sips of your coffee, hoping that the calories from the creamer will be enough to settle your stomach. You start your car and take a bite of the burrito. It's the end bit, so it's mostly tortilla and a bit of egg. You try not to be disappointed as you back out of your parking spot and begin off to work.

8:58am You're just in time for work. You won't have time to make it to your computer before 9:00, but you're on company property so you can clock in on your phone. You let yourself sit for a second before going inside. You're feeling restless; it's just anxiety about being late, your boss has been in a bad mood lately and you don't want to upset him. Your music on the way in was too loud, but the silence was even worse. Your breakfast burrito didn't actually heat through all the way and turned you off from the idea of eating entirely. Your coffee is too sweet, you poured too much creamer into it this morning, but you'll survive. You feel off, but you convince yourself that's just because you're tired.

12:23pm You're exhausted, and you blame it on the stupid burrito. Your boring office job is exactly that, boring, but spending the day at a computer answering emails and redirecting phone calls was better than physical labor on days like today. Your stomach has been grumbling all day, but you're not really hungry, nothing sounds particularly good. You had a sleeve of graham crackers in your drawer at work, you've had a few this morning. They're good dipped in coffee, but both are rather dehydrating. Your favorite coworker came in with a big gulp full of nugget ice and gave you half. The cold water has been nice, but it's done little to solve how dry your mouth has been. You've made a cup of ramen for lunch, you're hoping that the warm and the salt will help you get through. Cup noodles aren't exactly your ideal lunch, but it's the least amount of effort and the least amount of chewing you can do, so you settle for it. You manage about half before your lunch break is over and you bin the remains.

2:00pm You hate this meeting. You hate this meeting so much. This is the most this could have been an email meeting you've ever attended in your entire life. It's virtual, which is good you suppose because that restlessness from this morning is back. You can look composed on camera, but your feet are tapping and you're not sure what exactly is wrong. You're thankful that you don't have to do much talking in this meeting, but the ramen did little to fix the dry mouth situation. If anything all the sodium bloated you. You've been to the bathroom three times trying to get rid of some of it, but all the liquid remains sloshing around in your stomach. You stifle a burp behind your fist and try to concentrate.

4:45pm Your boss left fifteen minutes ago, so you're going to leave fifteen minutes early. The sloshing in your stomach hasn't gone away, and you're too embarrassed to ask a coworker for antacid. You want to get out of here early, try to get home before the traffic gets too horrible. You just want to go lie down.

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5:20pm You toe your shoes off as you lean against your door because you know that if you bent over right now you might be sick. The last ten minutes of your drive have been stressful, your stomach hasn't been enjoying the stop and go of traffic. You've been trying to keep it settled with breathing and small sips of your cold water, but your burps have been getting wetter and wetter. The three flights of stairs up to your apartment have done little to settle your stomach, and you are so thankful that you've made it home before getting any worse. You make your way to your bedroom and get out of your uncomfortable work clothes in exchange for your largest and most comfortable pajamas. You feel another burp ripple up through your chest, but your hand springs to your mouth when your stomach heaves. The back of your throat is cold, water unsettled from the drive home. You know things aren't going to get better, you make your way to the bathroom.

You settle onto the bathroom floor, a shiver running up your spine as you lift the toilet seat lid up. You run your hand over your bloated stomach and the groan that leaves your mouth is involuntary. You burp once, twice, three times. They're wet, but have no power. Your stomach gurgles under your hand, that shiver returns. You burp again, deeper this time. You're nearly sick, but nothing more than some spit comes out. You wonder how long it will be before your stomach finally gives way. The restlessness has not left you all afternoon, you know you need to stay planted but you're itching to move. Your hands run along your stomach as you hover in front of the toilet bowl, trying your best to relieve your aching stomach of the gas that's been building. It hurts, you moan. You burp once more, wetter, and the liquid in your throat doesn't choke off or leave. You can't cough, so you heave, and a torrent of cold water splashes down into the toilet below you. You try to catch your breath, but a bubble of air has rolled from your belly button and up through your esophagus. You burp, and more liquid erupts and splashes below you as your stomach heaves twice.

You try to catch your breath, but the contents of your stomach have shifted. The pressure in your chest is trying to keep your throat closed. There is a pressure growing in your stomach, your hand along its side can feel the way the liquids don't seen to slosh anymore, but stand ready for expulsion. You gulp down a breath of air, you burp. There is silence where you're waiting for a breath, but the pressure in your stomach has grown and it has won. You heave once, then twice. There's noodles in this one.

You have a moment to catch your breath. You're able to fill your lungs for the price of a belch, but a harmless one. Dry, forceful, and short, you hope they help regain balance in your stomach, but after only two or three belches liquid found their way up. You burp up a mouthful, your tongue dangling with drool. You think you've cured your dry mouth from all this morning before your stomach retches and forces out more than you knew had been inside of it. You struggle to catch your breath and force up a few smaller waves as you try and clear your throat. Your stomach aches, and you try to settle. You haven't eaten much today, there is no way you can have any more in your stomach to vomit up. Still, you're not confident enough to leave your position in the bathroom yet.

You feel weak, hot and cold at the same time, and you know that even though it made no sense, more was to come. You burp, and your stomach retches some more liquid up. You wonder when this was from, how it got here. It's warm and a little bitter, but it doesn't hurt your throat in the way coffee or bile would. You breathe heavy and your stomach gurgles again. You put your hand on your stomach and feel how unsettled it is. You begin to burp, and you can not stop. One after the other, you're choking on them and then another torrent of vomit, followed by a second so powerful your face is halfway down the toilet bowl. You breathe, you heave, you spit into the bowl. You're a little bit dizzy, but as you breathe and steady yourself, you feel as though the worst of it might be over. You spend several more minutes on the floor of your bathroom making sure your stomach was truly finished, and you begin to feel much better. You wonder what had kept it so upset in the first place.

2:36am The ripple that tears its way through your gut is both an auditory warning of what's to come and a pain that sends you curled into yourself. Your body feels heavy, as does your stomach. You took it easy last night, you ate soft foods-mashed potatoes and some pasta. You drank water, you took it slow. You were feeling fine tonight. Throwing up earlier had really helped, but now you're not so certain that assessment was accurate. Your stomach feels hard, and it flinches when you run your fingers along it. Your feet spring to action, you know you don't have much time and you'd rather not get sick in your bed or on your floor. You feel your throat trying to open up, prepare itself for the sick that will be making its way up momentarily. You try not to think about it too much, you settle onto the bathroom floor again.

Things are quiet. For several seconds things are quiet as you hover in the darkness over the bowl of your toilet. Your stomach hangs heavy, though it continues to twitch, trying to heave itself higher. Your mouth hangs open and you let out a little whine. Your stomach contracts, and several waves of sick force themselves out of you. You settle, but only momentarily. Your stomach heaves again, and more sick spews out of you without you having much say in the matter. You hope it will be over soon, you hope it will make you feel better.

You heave two more times. Your stomach hurts. You throw up again, but it's forced, a mouthful of half digested mush forcing its way upwards. A deep burp forces its way up, and with it a thick stream of carb heavy sick. You burp again, you retch some more, you try and catch your breath. Your stomach heaves and forces more spit up. Your brow is sweaty, your legs are weak. You lie down on the floor, you appreciate how cold it is. You think perhaps spending the night here would be a good idea.

[emeto-secret-agent]

I miss you :( hope ur doing well!!

Aww Anon you're the sweetest!! ♡♡ I miss you guys too!

I'm currently doing the last year of my master's degree, so life is a bit crazy rn. I've been struggling with burnout for the past year or so now, so I can't wait to finally finish this degree and rest lol

Then hopefully I'll be back with full force!

And thank you for thinking about me! And thank you to everyone who still reads my posts! I occasionally come here to lurk and check the notifications so I see you guys from the shadows ♡

Take care everyone and see you soon ♡＾▽＾♡

[fishing-lesbian-princess]

Revolutionary idea I just came up with: imagine [characters I like] engaging in [kink that I have]. Why has no one ever thought of this?

[burpyurpybabes]

Last night I got a little greedy and ordered more than I could handle. I'd been snacking on and off all day, mostly soft foods like baked goods. I had been drinking for a little bit too and really had a craving for this mexican place in my town. I was feeling a little excessive and got a chimichanga (deep fried burrito) with tomatoes, and cheese sauce all over it. The burrito itself is huge, but the dinner I ordered comes with a side of rice and a side of beans that also had cheese on it, as well as some chips. I was naughty and snacked a little bit more while I waited for my delivery to arrive.

I love this meal, but about halfway through I started to feel really full. It doesn't reheat well, though, so I pushed through. I grabbed another drink and rallied on. By the time I was finished, my stomach felt rock hard and I couldn't lay back without uneasy, nauseous burps. I was feeling a little off, I definitely knew I was pushing it. I stood to get another drink, hoping that a little movement would help. Standing helped a little bit. I was able to burp and release some gas. I took small sips of my drink and controlled my breathing. I decided that I might try going outside for a smoke, hoping that would help me forget how full I was and help me control my breathing.

Fuck, was I wrong. One hit gone wrong and I started coughing. My stomach was so full, each cough got closer and closer to a heave. I was able to quell the pain in my throat with a few sips of my drink, but things weren't settling well. I felt so bloated, my stomach was groaning under my palm, chastising me for thinking I could eat five pounds of fried meat and cheese in one sitting. To be safe, I returned to my bathroom, leaning against the wall in front of my toilet while I groaned and tried to settle my stomach.

Between the painful groans were burps, each getting deeper and wetter than the other. Swallowing felt like a mistake, and none of my burps seemed to make me feel any better. If anything, I felt fuller with each belch. I leaned over the toilet and spit. I know it's only a matter of time now. The usual dizzy feeling or cold tingle down the spine that signal the need to vomit weren't present in this moment, the only thing I could think about was how full I was. Taking a deep breath is hard, my breathing becomes shallow and I'm worried with each inhale which exhale will be the one that finally releases it. I burp a few more times, some mucus hacks its way up my throat and I spit that in the toilet. I pat my hand against my stomach, it's hard and unwavering. I dare to take a deep breath and I feel my stomach clench. I don't throw up, not immediately, but I get up on my knees and steady myself, ready for what is to come.

As I shift positions, so do the contents of my stomach. I burp, wet and long. For a moment I think this is it, but my stomach doesn't yet heave. I leaves me breathless and disappointed, impatient and uncomfortable. All I can think about is how full I am, and how desperate I am to feel better. It hurts; it's a solid, churning stone settling in my stomach. It makes every bit of me feel stiff, difficult to move. I wish I could move, but I know that being anywhere other than hovering over my toilet right now is a severe mistake.

I burp, and I retch but still nothing comes. I can feel the pressure growing, though. My meal is sitting at the back of my throat, it is only a matter of time. The gasses in my stomach are growing, I burp a few more times. Each time could be the moment I spew. I only burp once or twice before finally, I get some relief.

The first time I vomit it's mostly just liquid, the sips of drinks I'd taken trying to settle my stomach before making the mistake of setting it off with a coughing fit. I heave twice, right after the other, puking up probably about a glass of liquid between the two heaves. I feel the pressure in my stomach growing, I ground both of my hands on the floor. It's about to get bad.

The first heave was large. It started with a burp, but quickly turned chunks of meat and beans and tortilla into projectiles towards the porcelain of my toilet bowl: chunky, but still liquidy with my drinks. The heave was deep, and long. In the middle of the heave, I burp, creating a second, more powerful wave of vomit to follow. I feel a squirt of liquid between my legs as I heave; not enough to leak through my pants, but enough for me to notice. I try to catch my breath.

I manage a few deep breaths before my stomach tries to heave up my dinner once more. I retch once, coughing up spit. I burp, and up with it comes a thick stream of chunks. Some of the toilet water splashes up and hits my face as my barely digested dinner plops into the bowl. I burp again, and realize I still don't feel any less full from before. I know the next heave is coming, nothing but stomach acid and a cough. Another heave produces only mucus. I rub my stomach, irritated that it has yet to find relief.

Rubbing my stomach is relieving only in the sense that it jostled it enough to try and retch productively again. I burp, I sit up a bit more, I know my stomach isn't finished yet. My stomach is reeling and I'm exhausted, I know I'm not finished yet but I'm ready to be. This dinner was a mistake, I am suffering the consequences.

Again, I heave a few more times but my retches are hardly productive. I feel a bubble start deep in my gut, it makes its way up my throat. I burp, deep and long. For a second I think it will be just that, but at the last second my stomach heaves and I throw up a bit of liquid. I cough, and retch a small bit of liquid up once more. For the second time, my stomach betrays me and retches again as I'm getting sick, producing a more powerful wave of vomit directly after the first. I'm able to take one breath before I'm getting sick again. The power from the first few retches isn't there, but there's still quantity. It's thick, I can feel chunks of it still rub against my throat as it's expelled. My stomach is tense, I'm not allowed to swallow or breathe until I've managed to bring up liquid one more time.

I sit up a little bit, I rest my forehead against my arm. I have a moment to breathe. I still feel bloated and full, but not as sick as before. My stomach still rumbles though, I feel my mouth water and struggle to swallow. I burp again, spitting into the chunks below. I try to catch my breath. I heave, and struggle to bring up thick chunks of my meal. My stomach contracts again, forcing up even more food. I wonder if this batch even got to digest, it feels so thick I could chew it. I spit, and wonder if my stomach will release any more of its contents.

My stomach is still upset, but it's not heaving anymore. After several seconds I lean back against my wall. I burp several times. I'm sure that if I'd had water to drink in that moment, that I would have gotten sick again, maybe before I was able to reach the toilet. I didn't have water, though, and that's probably for the better. I still felt full, but I didn't feel sick anymore.

That is, for about another twenty minutes or so....

[burpyurpybabes]

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[blvk-cpl-deactivated20250713]

Corporate Churning

Another boring meeting. Another 3+ hours of sitting in an ice cold room, listening to self absorbed yuppies praddle on about production goals, standards, quarterly percentages, more and more boring stuff. As i absentmindedly zone out from the drabble, my eyes scan the room. Suits, blouses, skirts, slacks, coffee, white boards with arbitrary scribblings all over them. Then there’s my coworker, Sage. A beautiful girl with a mocha complexion, reddish brown hair, freckles, and emerald green eyes. But she looked….different today. Almost off. She didn’t have the vibrant, bright glow to her today. Not even a smile. She looked….dull. Almost ashen. Are those circles under her eyes?

My attention was brought back to the meeting when the board asked a question about manufacturing demands. When going to answer, I heard a belch. Stifled, but still a belch nonetheless. My eyes darted to the source of the noise as I answered, and I noticed the burp came from Sage. Her delicate fingers were pressed against her bubblegum pink lips. The meeting continued, and in the somewhat quiet move, I heard another noise. An odd, wet gurgle. And another belch. It’s Sage. She’s sort of slumped in her chair, and I notice that underneath her skirt, her tummy is bloated. The fabric of her clothing is stretched against her soft, rounded belly. I look at her face. The ashen gray from earlier has turned into a sickly sort of green. We lock eyes. She lowers her gaze in a sort of embarrassment. Concerned, I pull out my phone and send her a text from underneath the table. “What’s wrong? You look kind of green?” Send. Her phone buzzes, she looks at the phone, then at me. Then back at the phone. She taps a reply and sends it. I check my phone. “Felt bad since this morning. Think I have the belly flu. Ate the catered lunch to try to settle it. Not feeling good.”

Oh no. A stomach bug? With a full stomach? She’s a ticking time bomb waiting to blow. And it was hitting hard. Her bloated tummy was releasing angry, sick gurgles all throughout the meeting. Her complexion only grew more and more green tinged as she continuously would stifle wet burps, her cheeks puffing out as her unwanted lunch rose into her mouth, only to be swallowed back down with a grimace. Her stomach would respond to the sickly slurry being returned to it with an indignant gurgle and a nauseous slosh. The meeting had at least another hour left in duration, and I wasn’t sure if her tummy could hold out. Her burps were getting more and more frequent. More and more wet. Her stomach continued to gurgle and churn furiously, and I could swear I could visibly see the nasty sloshing happening inside of it. Every swallow of nasty sick caused her stomach to slosh and writhe, resulting in the green spreading across her face to deepen. She slumped back as her belly gurgled pitifully, mixing around the sack of vomit she called a stomach inside of her. She burped again, placing a hand on her tummy. Then, it happened. A belch, a gag, and another belch. Her tummy clenched, her cheeks puffed out with a sickly *glurp* noise as her mouth filled with the churned, unwanted lunch from her flu sickened belly. Her hands clasped over her mouth, her face a deep, sickly green. Her belly was sending more and more puke up her system, and she wouldn’t be able to contain it for much longer. Will she make it to the bathroom? Will she release the load in her sick tummy all over the meeting table? Do I sit and watch, or do I jump to the rescue? So many thoughts coursing through my mind, and yet, something about this situation is oddly arousing….

[idksomething327]

You know, I really like the idea of puking into hands. Someone panicking and vomiting into their hands when there's nothing else to puke into. Maybe they're on the toilet, thinking they were safe and their food wouldn't come up, but quickly find that it does and they vomit into their cupped hands. Maybe there was no bucket around, or maybe they made too quick a decision and ignored the bucket right by them, flooding them with regret at the mess they made which just worsens their stomach pain. I would love for someone to grip desperately onto my forearms, their nails digging into me so deep it hurts, pathetically crying and choking up vomit into my hands. I love when the hands can't hold all of the puke. To watch it spill over the edges of the fingers and drip onto the floor as the person becomes more panicked... I need this so bad.

[sickandvomiting]

In a surprising turn of events, I got inspired.

[vocalhitches]

why do these vanilla posts keep haunting my twitter feed

[very-freakin-effable]

i mean they are correct

[blushingblurbs]

Finding sickie on the toilet, or on the bathroom floor. Clutching their belly, moaning and rocking back and forth slowly in pain.

A thick, sickly gurgles comes from deep within their clearly aching gut. Before either of you can react, a weak burp leaves their lips. They look up at you, helplessly, for a moment, as if to apologize or send a warning for what’s to come.

You freeze - that gurgle and burp sounded dangerous. But now there’s a bigger issue. A spurt of vomit comes spraying with another burp. You jump backward to avoid being hit, annoyed for a moment that sickie can’t seem to be bothered to contain their mess in the toilet.

A quick glance explains why. Sickie, bent over on the seat, or leaning onto it from the floor, still puking, has their arms wrapped around their belly, applying pressure.

Their stomach can’t take it, and you hear a steady stream of liquid diarrhea leaving their bowels with very heave.

They couldn’t get both ends to void into toilet, and in their haste, made their choice.

[yikessick]

the road is old and poorly maintained, full of potholes and bumpy patches. you're driving with a carsick sickie, trying to dodge as much of the bad road as you can, listening to their sick sounds, their quiet burps and soft moans and forced swallows.

coming around a turn, you see at the last minute a deep, wide pothole, the kind that would certainly give your car a flat tire. you're forced to swerve, dodging, and beside you in the passenger seat your sickie makes a strangled heaving noise, a hand coming up to cover their mouth.

"ohhhh, i don't feel good," they say, holding their belly with their free hand. "i'm really sorry, i think i might be sick soon."

"it's okay, baby. there are plastic bags in the glove compartment, let's get you one."

trying to keep the car steady, you lean over and find one of the bags, passing it to your sickie. they moan and open it, leaning over their lap with their hand still cluthing their sick tummy. a little bit of saliva drips over their lower lip to crinkle onto the plastic. you can hear their heavy, strained breaths as they try to hold back the inevitable.

in your distraction, you haven't been keeping a close enough watch on the road. before you can react, the right front tire dips into a hollow in the concrete, and the passenger side of the car bounces.

your sickie lets out a deep, sick-sounding belch. they snatch the bag and hold it up to their mouth just in time to catch a thin stream of bile.

"owww, it hurts," they tell you.

you take one hand off the wheel to rub their back. they retch, loud and empty, and you can feel all their back muscles tightening with the effort.

"just get it up, baby. come on, almost there," you tell your sickie as they struggle.

their labored breathing catches, and then they heave again, a guttural thing, producing a mouthful of sick. they cough in surprise and spit, gasping for air.

a minute later, there's another bump in the road you can't avoid, and your sickie groans and jerks over the bag, this time throwing up a heavy stream. it's chunky now—you can hear their stomach contents splattering against the plastic.

and so it goes. your sickie is moaning and squirming with discomfort, their nausea unavoidable. with every twist and uneven spot, they belch and gag and get sick, unable to control themself as their unhappy belly purges.

"the bag is getting full," they whine, right before a sharp burp brings up another small stream of vomit. they let out a pained, tired noise. "i can't stop."

"there's a gas station up ahead, it's okay. just let it all out."

pulling into the parking spot produces another strained retch and mouthful of vomit from your sickie. you wait for them to finish, still rubbing their back until they feel they can let go of the bag.

you come back from the gas station, having disposed of the full bag, to find your sickie has thrown up down their front, too weak and exhausted to get themselves out over the asphalt. orange bile and a couple chunks stain their shirt and cling to their chin.

you sigh and clean your sickie up, wiping their face off and getting them a new shirt to wear. you hand them a fresh bag from the glove compartment. it's going to be a long drive.

[emeto-secret-agent]

Uff, I've seriously overstuffed myself today with Christmas dinner...

I can feel my belly all bloated and hard, that huge amount of food just churning in there... Gosh, I wish I had something or someone with me right now to help me with this belly ache

And since I'm a bit feisty from my overstuffed tummy, I also tried to take a few photos of my bloated belly. Although I'm not sure, I could capture how full it was~

Anyways, underwear pics are below ♡

[hae-meto]

Doing this thing on twitter rn (btw my twitter is @hae_meto) where every rt and like equals to an increase in body temp and holy cow were people interested lmao

this dude should already be dead at this point 😫

But here are my doodles for each 0.5 degree increase (~38 degrees c) 🤙

Feeling… a little drowsy…

What’s up with him?

I don’t know. Told me he isn’t feeling good. He’s a little warm.

He’s still feeling like he’s gonna throw up.

Still have something to puke though?

Enjoy👍

[hae-meto]

Drew the next clips today! Hope yall enjoy 🤍

Current body temp: 38.5 degrees celsius

(School nurse)Your temperature keeps rising… your brother’s coming to pick you up. Is there anything uncomfortable?

Just… feeling a bit nauseous…

Current body temp: 39 degrees celsius

Geez… Do you feel a little better now? Let’s go home so you can rest.

Tmi but my body temperature has always been on the higher scale (like around 99F, 37.0~37.5C) and the last time I was sick (covid lmao), I was quarantined in my studio apt playing nintendo and eating bingsoo just living the life when my body temp was around 39C (102F). So yeah I don’t really relate to him ahaha

[hae-meto]

Part 3!

Let’s get you some more antipyretics

Ok…

Yeah, his fever keeps rising… please come quickly

Can someone give me characters with super high fevers please 🥺 they’re so cute and precious but I don’t want to draw lmao

[hae-meto]

Part 5

Almost at the end of this series! The ride to the hospital …🏥

Hey, don’t fall asleep okay?

[hae-meto]

(The real)part 5

Why can I not count?

Anyways, here’s the last part before the ending!

This random pole will determine his future!

💉

💊

Voting ended onDec 16, 2024

Only me and a couple of friends know which is which. Hopefully he gets the ending he deserves 🤞

[emeto-secret-agent]

You guys, come and vote on the last part, the boy is suffering