Psychedelia

He knew he shouldn’t have gotten these mushroom chips.

A groan escaped him as he curled up into a ball on his apartment floor, shivers tingling down his fur. Rumi was no stranger to strange eats and odd combinations. He had to deal with friends and roommates eating gross abominations during breeding season after all. In fact, he himself came up with some strange things for them to eat in hopes he’d be left alone and focus on his winning his competitive matches in peace. Perhaps this was his fate biting him in the ass. He made something horrifying beyond repair that now he had to deal with this mushroom mishap.

To his credit, the yellow Sloth bun didn’t mind mushrooms in any form. He heard about the uptick in recreational shrooms from the hazebloom beds and all about the fun his fellow Succubuns were having from it. He would have partook on any other off season or break in his schedule; but with placement matches just around the corner there was no way he would lose focus now. It would have been a great reward at the end or even if he were just zoning out on relaxing farming sims but no.

No, instead, he was signed up for some serious heat and now he was having a bad reaction to some mushroom chips he bought on a whim from Bunstacart. Another moan wracks through him, pain clenching deep from his belly. Was it allergies? He doubted it. He would pretty much eat anything and everything if allowed. If left unsupervised, Rumi would eat food off the floor and be unaffected by it. He’s done it before and would most likely do it again if this particular instance didn’t straight out kill him. He couldn’t rule out food poisoning but again, his stomach was like a cast iron pot. It would take more than his own stomach acids and food to hurt him this bad.

By this point, his imps Shenron, the Ryudra, and Lopmon, the Tomodigi, came to check up on him. Lopmon was chained to Shenron’s tail, happy to keep its fellow imp-sibling company. Shenron for its part slithered closer to Rumi, nudging them with its nose in a concerned manner.

“Mhh, no buddy, I’m not doing so good,” came the Sloth bun’s pathetic sigh. He reached over to pet his imp more so to soothe himself than them but flopped onto his back with a couch pillow beneath his head. “I’m givin’ Full Foods a 1 star rating after all this…”

His little arm shoots up over the nearby coffee table, feeling around for his phone. When he felt the familiar crinkle of the mushroom chips bag his face contorts in agony, chucking it aside before he felt the tail-end of his phone charm. He tugged until it fell near his face, unlocking it to flip through his contacts. He’d go on the app and give a bad review later: for now though? He calls the first person he can think of who’d be able to assist him in this situation.

His phone rings and rings until the line patches through. There’s a brief moment of ruffling before a sultry voice greets him.

“Rumi, darling, how are-” The voice is cut off almost immediately by Rumi’s strained voice.

“Daph, no time. Please- come to my apartment. I am not feelin’ too hot.”

The silence that follows felt like it stretched on for minutes even if it was just a few seconds. Eventually, the voice on the other end lets out a quiet sigh before they seem to put the phone away from their lips, speaking to someone else in their company before returning to speak with Rumi.

“Of course sweetheart. I’ll be there in five.” The line clicks and the call ended. Rumi hoisted himself onto his sofa with extreme effort. He feels his insides churning, hot and sharp within him. Part of him bargains and swears never to eat off the floor again in exchange for release. Granted, it wasn’t what he did with the mushroom chips he ate but close enough.

His eyes are shut and the passage of time seems to bend the long way round. Daphne promised to be there in five minutes and she would be, as she always did. She was a bun of her word, Rumi knew this, but it felt like he was in pain for hours. Another shiver takes him and it takes all his strength not to just give into sleep right then and there. Before he thinks of giving up, there’s a knock on his door followed by its opening and then, the clacking of stilettos. Thank Murmur, she was finally here.

Daphne de Luxe was an elegant bun but even more so in her doll form–one she preferred to sport when she left her venue. She picked up her small, shaking Sloth companion and cupped their face in her hands, tsk’ing him with tender regard. “Ate something bad again, darling?”

“Mushroom chips.” He muttered, tail lashing guiltily. Irritably. “Tasted fine then all of a sudden, felt like it might be food poisoning. It–” Rumi’s breath hitched, a fresh wave of nausea rolling through him. “–never happened before. So I don’t know if this is that. Think you can keep me company until it passes…?” While there was the very real possibility she would just laugh and leave, the Sloth bun hoped his friend would remain. He feels a soft set of petals land on his belly and he peeps long enough to see Pragma, Daphne’s beloved Erose, attempting to soothe him.

“First, I’ll get you some stomache-ache relieving medicine and then figure out what the hell was in those mushroom chips you ate that made you keel over like this.” She sniffed, setting her friend back down as she goes to grab the medicine and a cup of water for him. “See, if you went out to get your snacks instead of delivering them here, you wouldn’t be in this situation.”

Of course she couldn’t help but chastise him. If he had the strength, he’d roll his eyes at her. Instead, he nestled closer to the cushions and nodded. “Just means you gotta take me then. I know how much you hate going to the grocery stores with the common folk.” Rumi managed to quip before holding Pragma close for comfort, thankful for their presence. Shenron and Lopmon make their way to their owner too, comprehending their distress a little more keenly now that Pragma was around, curling around him.

True to her word, Daphne kept Rumi company and together, found out the culprit of Rumi’s stomach woes.

“Sweetheart…” Daphne began once Rumi had taken some medicine. “These mushroom chips have mold on them. Did you think it was seasoning or something? Couldn’t you tell by the taste?”

Her question was lost on deaf ears as Rumi, too tired to fight off the stomachaches, had fallen asleep with three imps curled around him. She sighed and went to grab his blanket from his room, covering them while they snoozed. Daphne went to chuck the rest of the mushroom chips away and with no one around, shifted back into her bun form to sit at the foot of the sofa where her companion rested.

“Honestly, what are we going to do with you?” She murmured, affection laced with every word.