#seasick

[vincekris]

seasick, 1930s

[corromon]

Clawbs or Pawbs?

[bubble-up]

Absolutely, criminally underrated: “dock rock” or land sickness.

While seemingly a bit rarer than seasickness, many people report feeling dizzy, off-balance, and nauseous for a few days following getting off a boat that you’ve been on for an extended period of time.

Have an OC that gets seasick, but gains their sea legs fairly quickly? Hit them with that land sickness once they disembark. Their vestibular system hates the transition period, both ways, and it knocks them flat on their ass again even though they had finally felt better.

Have an OC that gets seasick the whole damn time, and struggles to ever get sea legs? Sorry, the nausea follows them even once they’re back on land like they had so desperately wanted. A never-ending bad reaction. “Ugh… I thought I was free of this.”

Have an OC that doesn’t get seasick? Congrats—this is real—people who do not get seasick can get land sick. It can seriously happen. They feel fine, untouchable even, and then once they step off that boat they’re incapacitated laying in bed begging for the dizziness to stop.

[xichilie]

What if… seasick reader 🤔

Brant x fem (reader)

Seasick reader

The salty sea breeze carried the scent of the ocean, mingling with the distant call of gulls and the rhythmic creaking of the ship as it cut through the waves. The journey had started with excitement—a grand adventure, Brant had called it—but now, leaning over the ship's railing, Y/N felt anything but grand.

A miserable groan escaped her lips as another wave of nausea rolled through her. She clutched the railing tighter, her knuckles white. The world tilted, and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing her stomach to settle.

Behind her, familiar footsteps approached, lighter than they should have been on the worn wooden deck. "Oh, my poor, tragic dove," Brant's voice purred, laced with exaggerated sympathy. "You suffer so, and I, cruel as I am, failed to prevent it. How will I ever live with this guilt?"

Y/N weakly turned her head to glare at him. "Brant, I swear if you don't—" Her words were cut off as another wave of nausea hit, forcing her to return her focus to the ocean.

Brant's teasing façade melted in an instant. Gently, he placed a warm hand against her back, rubbing slow circles between her shoulders. "Alright, alright," he murmured, his voice softer now. "No theatrics. Just me."

Y/N took a slow breath, her body still tense. The warmth of his touch was grounding, a stark contrast to the relentless rocking of the ship.

Brant sighed, his other hand coming up to brush a few strands of hair from her damp forehead. "You always take care of me, Stella Mia," he said, voice unusually quiet. "Let me return the favor for once."

Before she could protest, he was already moving. In a matter of moments, he had pressed a cool, damp cloth to her forehead, guiding her to sit down against the ship’s railing. He produced a flask from his coat, pressing it lightly to her lips. "Just a sip," he coaxed. "Ginger and honey. It'll help."

Y/N obeyed, the warm liquid sliding down her throat, soothing in its own way.

Brant sat beside her, legs stretched out, his shoulder brushing hers. "This ship had better be worth the suffering it’s putting you through," he mused, though the usual amusement in his voice was laced with something gentler.

She let out a weak chuckle. "If not, I’m making you carry me everywhere when we get off."

Brant grinned, dramatic once more. "Oh, my love, you need only ask. I'll sweep you into my arms, sing sonnets of your bravery, and—"

"Brant," she groaned, leaning her head against his shoulder, "shut up."

His laughter was soft, his arm curling around her shoulders in an embrace that was steady despite the rocking ship. "Anything for you, Stella Mia."

The moment the ship docked, Y/N exhaled in sheer relief. The journey had been a test of endurance, one she had barely passed, and she was desperate to set foot on solid ground again.

Brant, ever the gentleman when it suited him, was already at her side, offering his arm with a flourish. “Come, my suffering angel, allow me to be your guiding light back to the safety of the earth.”

Y/N groaned, reaching for his arm. The moment she attempted to step forward, her legs wobbled beneath her, the lingering sensation of the ship’s constant sway refusing to leave her body. She stumbled, but before she could fall, Brant caught her with ease, steadying her with both hands.

"Careful, Stella Mia," he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "The sea may have released you, but it still lingers in your bones."

Y/N clung to him, annoyed at her own weakness but grateful for his support. “I feel like I’m still moving.”

Brant chuckled, adjusting his grip as he led her slowly down the gangplank. “A cruel trick of the ocean, my dear. It steals your strength and then mocks you for it.” His smirk softened as he looked down at her. “But worry not. You have me.”

Once her boots touched the cobbled port, Y/N sighed, the solid ground beneath her an instant comfort. “Thank the gods.”

Brant didn’t let go immediately, keeping her close as she regained her balance. "Shall I carry you, just in case?" His eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was something else beneath it—genuine concern.

Y/N gave him a tired glare but couldn't help the small smile tugging at her lips. “Don’t you dare.”

He laughed, finally releasing her but keeping a protective hand at her back as they walked forward. “Very well, but if you swoon dramatically into my arms, I reserve the right to boast about it for years.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but leaned into him just a little as they made their way into town. Maybe, just this once, she’d let him fuss over her.

[sarcasticratsims]

"I thought I was okay."

|Seasick|

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