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#vomit sickfics
5sosxqueen · 1 year
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I might start posting my stories on here again. I love doing it, but I was starting to feel extremely overwhelmed.
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spinzolliii · 3 months
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A whumpee prematurely returning to their duties and attending a meeting/class/training session/whatever. They’re clearly falling apart in silence, and they quietly excuse themselves halfway through. One of their friends finds them bleeding/vomiting/unconscious in the bathroom much later.
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danafeelingsick · 9 months
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having soft thoughts of a sickie feeling guilty about puking up all the food caretaker made for them with so much love and care:
sickie having to maintain appearances, even as their poor stomach revolts agaisnt the heavy meal sitting inside it
sickie who can't help but grimace at the sight/smell/texture of the food, which makes caretaker think they might've messed it up
sickie clutching/hugging their middle as they try their hardest not to puke, thinking of the smile caretaker had on as they watched them eat, thinking they finally were starting to recover
sickie who has a hand clasped over their mouth, holding it tight to keep the food in no matter what, even to the protests of caretaker who's trying to tell them to just let it out, don't try to hold it
sickie who ends up losing the barely digested food over the blankets, sobbing apologies to a caretaker who's more worried about their well-being than anything else
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the sickfic to end all sickfics
i will never get tired of a boy going to bed feeling funny and waking up in the middle of the night feverish and horrifically sick.
he tries to brush off his sour stomach and tiredness and lack of appetite. after all, he’s been working long hours and eating the wrong things. a good night’s sleep is all he needs. he hardly touches his dinner and is in bed by 7:30.
he falls asleep quickly next to you, but his temperature rises and leaves him with feverish, confused dreams. you’re awoken by him mumbling deliriously, and when you ask him what’s the matter he starts muttering incoherent sentences that don’t seem to connect or conclude. you switch on a bedside lamp, and examine the pallor of his sweat-slicked face while using your palm to feel his forehead. he’s absolutely burning hot. his eyes, heavylidded, flutter.
“i don’t feel good” he manages to tell you through dry lips. his breaths come shallow and out of his mouth. you feel so sorry for him but can’t help but find him irresistible in such a weak state. you ask him where he isn’t feeling good, brushing back his bangs.
“stomach” is all he says. you probe further and ask him what kind of stomach ache it is, and with a heavy swallow he says “nauseous” and that “everything is spinning.” you lie there with him until his saliva is too much for his own mouth, and you have to help him to the bathroom. you stay by his side until he thinks he’s done.
the next morning doesn’t fare much better. he got sick a couple more times in the night, and is still running a fever. he mumbles incoherent thoughts about having to call into work sick, so worried about having to take a sick day, about how much he’ll be missing at work. he tosses layers of blankets to the floor and removes his pajamas, complaining about how hot it is. within fifteen minutes he is shivering and you have to help him put his pajamas back on.
he goes a couple hours without throwing up, and you suggest crackers. he manages to keep those down, and before long he agrees to a can of chicken soup. when you come to place the tray over his lap, he is lying there staring off into space looking so miserable and pale. you hope the soup will give a little color to his face.
he slurps the soup down to its bottom. you’re glad to see him eating, and after he’s done you take the bowl to wash. as you’re doing the dishes, you hear him coughing. you think he might be trying to clear his throat.
you hear him start to retch.
you leave the sink and come back into the bedroom. his head is hung over a trash can. he looks up.
“im sorry,” he mutters. “im so sorry. i didn’t mean to.”
this sight absolutely breaks your heart. in this woozy state he feels the need to apologize, worried about upsetting or offending you for throwing up the soup you made. you rub circles on his back and hush him as he apologizes again and again and again. after he’s done you tuck him back up, kissing his burning forehead. you sit at his bedside to play with his hair and make him sleepy. he goes in and out of sleep, and senses when you’re not there. when he wakes he weakly cries out for you, begging for you to make it all better. all you can do is pet his hair and shush him, hoping it’ll all be over soon.
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sickficideas · 8 months
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"You just threw up the water you had ten seconds after drinking it, but you're still gonna keep saying you're fine, huh?"
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Whump Prompt #1311
TW: EMETOPHOBIA / VOMIT
Anon asked: Do you have any prompts/ideas for a caretaker caring for a sick character who is terrified of throwing up?
I have a couple:
“The more you try to stop it the worse it’ll be, y’know.” / “You’re making that up.” / “Maybe to stop you gagging, but seriously, better out than in.”
“Please, I don’t want to - it burns!”
Maybe the whumpee has a history of being forced to throw up/a serious illness.
Maybe the last time they did, they threw up blood due to a serious underlying injury/illness.
"I'll hold your hair if that's what you're worried about." / "Don't you dare."
Your whumpee could just be embarrassed, so the more shameless (or perhaps shy) caretaker takes them through their own embarrassing memories (drunken nights, illnesses, throwing up in front of someone because they're so excited/scared/anxious).
^ "Seriously, [whumpee] you throwing up from an illness is the most mundane thing imaginable. Everyone does it. The King of England does."
Maybe the whumpee has bad memories of being sick and alone, throwing up whatever's in their stomach. When the caretaker finds this out, they make sure to keep the whumpee comfortable - maybe giving them blankets/pillows and making sure their clothes are fresh and their mouth is clean after each bout.
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pvke-princess · 6 months
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imagine them projectile vomiting onto the closed bathroom door 🥺 they really tried to make it but didn't expect it to be closed. maybe it's the middle of the night and they couldn't see. they're humiliated and don't want to wake their partner, but they feel really bad and it's more than they can take.
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zedif-y · 1 month
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“Before you yell at me,” Impulse says. “I want to at least say that I know this was a bad idea.”
On the other side of the room, Bdubs shifts in bed, sniffling as he battles a runny nose. Pearl sighs.
“You see how that actually makes it worse, right?” She replies. There’s a faint crackle on her end, her breath picked up by the phone– “Impulse, you need to leave.” 
Impulse grimaces. He feels Bdubs’ stare against his back, “I…”
“You know why you can’t stay there,” Pearl tells him. Her voice is even, but the words drag him down like weights. “Impulse–”
He bites the inside of his cheek, “I can’t.”
Pearl goes quiet for a moment. 
Impulse can almost picture her expression– jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowed in worry. A quiet sadness in her eyes as she takes him in. Not a hint of judgement– yet somehow that almost chokes him even more.
Then, “Why not?”
Impulse swallows. He shifts on his feet, focuses on the feel of the soft carpet. (It’s old, the color mostly faded. Impulse remembers installing it– a hot summer day, around two years ago. It feels like a lifetime has passed since.) “It’s just…”
(Bdubs’ voice, raspy and weak, “Can you come over?”)
“He’s sick,” Impulse whispers, eyes downcast. “Nothing too bad, I think, but it’s– he called me, and he said he needed me and I… You know that I…” 
(Impulse had just gotten home, then, exhaustion burning in his bones. But even then he takes a peek out the window, looks on as the pale grey of the afternoon seeps into night. His mouth thins into a line.)
(“Bdubs, I–”)
(“Please,” Comes the hoarse reply. “I miss you.”)
Impulse’s chest constricts. You know I can’t say no to that, he wants to say, the words burning like acid on his throat. I can’t. I want to, I need to, but I can’t.
(There’s a beat, a heavy pause. Impulse tries to remember how to breathe.)
(“…Give me a few hours.”)
Not when it’s him.
Impulse drags a hand down his face, his voice hushed as he speaks into his phone. “Pearl, I know you’re trying to help, but…” He turns to look at Bdubs. Reddened eyes stare back at him, just that little bit hazy. Impulse bites the inside of his cheek. “I need to be here. I need to stay.”
“You don’t need to do anything,” Pearl replies. “You said you wouldn't…"
I know, “…Yeah, I did," Impulse sits down next to Bdubs, the bed dipping under his weight. He places the back of his hand on Bdubs' forehead, feeling the heat seep instantly into his skin. He tsks under his breath.
Bdubs lets out a small sigh, his eyes fluttering shut. Impulse tries to ignore how his heart squeezes at that, licks his lips as he heads back out of the room. The door clicks shut behind him.
"...Impulse?" Pearl asks, "You still there?"
He breathes in, breathes out.
"Still here," He mutters. 
At his silence, Pearl speaks up. 
“Impulse,” She says, voice soft. “Are you okay?”
Impulse looks out at the living room, the windows casting light over the worn sofa. His things packed neatly in a bag. His own knick knacks strewn about the shelves. There's a lump in Impulse's throat, and it won't go away.
“I don’t know,” He tells her, the truth of it aching. “I don’t know, Pearl.”
There’s rustling on the other end, a faint hum of music in the background. Impulse doesn’t know how long it’s been playing.
“Do you want me to pick you up?” Pearl asks, and Impulse knows she means it. Knows that he could say yes, and she would be here within the hour, providing company despite her hectic schedule. Impulse knows.
(And yet.)
For a few moments, Impulse doesn’t say anything. He moves closer to the windows, feels the warmth of the sunlight on the back of his hand.
Not for the first time, his gaze drifts to his finger– a small band of lightened skin, a whisper of a ring.
"I'll leave when he's recovered," Impulse says at last. "I promise."
Even to his own ears, it sounds like a lie.
“Bein’ shick is the worst,” Bdubs groans. He grabs his handkerchief, blows his nose loud– “Guh, good grief.”
“Drink your water, Bdubs!” Impulse calls out from the kitchen. The bedroom door, now open, gives Bdubs a decent view of him, chopping up… Somethin’, and then adding them to a pot. Bdubs makes a noise in response, half grumble half yeah, yeah, I know. 
He mutters under his breath, “Can’t even smell the food…”
His hands are clammy as he reaches for his water bottle, drinking in greedy mouthfuls as the liquid soothes his throat a little. He sniffs, again, another groan on his lips as his head swims– like he’s swaying even if he’s just sitting down, a godawful heat just under his skin. His blanket, already shoved to the side, is kicked away even further.
Bdubs breathes out through his mouth, his throat raspy and dry even though he just–
“I hate this,” He seethes, eyes shut tight and head spinning and nose running, goodness sakes– “I…”
A wave of nausea rolls over him like the tide. Bile rushes into his throat, his muscles seizing as he rasps out, “Impulse!”
There’s some clattering from the kitchen, the click of a stove. “What?” Impulse asks, rushing into the room. He’s still wearing his apron. “What’s wrong?”
Worry shines on his face, etched into the lines of it. If Bdubs weren’t about to puke his guts out, he’d be starin’ a lot more–
“Bathroom,” Bdubs rasps out, acid burning his throat, his eyes stinging with tears–
Impulse heaves him out of bed with a grunt. Bdubs goes limp in his grasp, fighting head-swimming nausea that makes his vision all weird as Impulse rushes him to the bathroom, gently sets him on the floor–
“Hurgk!”
Bdubs’ eyes sting as he hurls, his chest heaving as he’s hunched over the rim of the toilet. A burning sourness coats his tongue, scratching against his throat. His knees protest against the cool tiles. Everything in him aches as he coughs violently, his hands shaking as he balances himself–
Big, gentle hands push his hair away from his face, soothing his trembling back. Bdubs sobs, spit dripping from his lips as everything hits him all at once, every pinprick of pain and the shivering cold and mind-numbing heat–
“I’ve got you,” He hears Impulse say, the words drifting just at the edge of his mind. “I’ve got you, Bdubs.”
Always.
Bdubs coughs, shakes like a leaf as he heaves over the bowl. His mind feels fuzzy, face damp with tears and sweat. Something desperate claws at his chest, comes bubbling out as a real sob as he says, “Yer too good to me,” He sniffles, feels the hands adjusting in his hair. “You’re too…”
His muscles seize, another surge of bile. Bdubs grips the edge of the bowl, eyes shut tight through the roiling pain, and he forgets whatever the hell it was that he was going to say.
He doesn’t notice Impulse going quiet. He doesn’t notice the faraway look in his eyes, the way his jaw clenches as he looks at Bdubs’ face.
He doesn’t notice the way Impulse looks like he agrees.
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jurassicsickfics · 2 months
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Alternative phrases for "I'm gonna throw up" 🤢:
1. "I think my belly's gonna blow..."
2. " This is gonna be way more than a burp..."
3. " I'm about to fill that bucket..."
4. " I think I need to spew..."
5. "Here comes the fire hose..."
6. " I'm gonna sick..."
7. "I think I'm gonna blow chunks..."
8. "That (food) I ate is about to come back to haunt me..."
9. " My stomach feels like a shaken bottle of pop..and..now it's gonna spew..."
10. "I've gotta spit up..."
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thesewingmachine · 2 months
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did you know that people can vomit hard/frequently enough that it can burst the blood vessels in their face and result in bruising?
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monthofsick · 5 months
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Nov(emeto)ber Rescheduled Prompt List (February 2024)
Daily prompts typed out below for February, 2024!  You can also find them on the Prompt Page.  If anyone has trouble with visibility please let me know! You can find the Rules Page here.
I highly encourage everyone to check out the linked posts for additional inspiration! However, please also note that you are more than welcome to interpret the prompt separate from the inspiration post.
Sharing a receptacle (submission by @nerdlycharming)
Can’t stop puking
Bad news = bad stomach @angstyaches
Messy @jurassicsickfics
Undesirable caretaker (submission by @danafeelingsick): the sickie dislikes or has a grudge against their caretaker, but needs their help anyway.
Post-adrenaline puking @someonesgrossblog
Too feverish to think
Choose: Loud or silent
Persistent sickness
Ill with an audience @darthhopereblogs
Totally drained/exhausted
Group sickfic
Professionalism failure @fevers-and-emeto-oh-my and @sickficideas
Can’t keep anything down
Free day!
Waking up puking
Sick for the first time
Unfamiliar surroundings
Sick in more ways than one
Late caretaker @feelingpoorly
Sleepy sickie @fluffyllamas-23
Out of character / Visibly Ill @feelingpoorly
Subtle support @emphasis-on-the-comfort
Panic @danafeelingsick
Cranky sickie @angstyaches
Nonverbal illness indicators @emphasis-on-the-comfort and @jurassicsickfics
Head pain/injury/ache @syncope-syndrome
Chaotic body temperature
Fake “Faking it:" Sickie is playing up their illness at first, or faking it all together, until suddenly they're not. Optional "I told you I didn't feel good" dialogue.
Alternative Prompts
If any of the assigned daily prompts don’t work for you, feel free to substitute with the following:
Motion sick
Sick during transit
Unconventional receptacle
Torture (literal or figurative)
Shaky/shivery
Note: If I’ve tagged you here, it’s because I think you’re brilliant and used your content as inspiration, so I wanted to give you credit. If you’d rather I don’t include your @, a link to your post, or the associated prompt altogether, please do let me know and I will remove it no questions asked! And if I missed anyone, please let me know as well so I can fix that.
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5sosxqueen · 10 months
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I'm going to eventually start posting my stories back up once I'm feeling motivated enough to do so.
Until then... meet my first OC. I did use AI to make her, but I had to edit it for a whole day to get it to look like how I envisioned her. I love how she turned out!
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Name: Onnetta Ahonen
Pronounced As: Oh - net - tah, Ah - hon - nen
Nickname: Ona
Age: 29
Height: 5'8
Race: Finnish
Gender: Female
Pronouns: She/Her
Hair Color: Dark Brown with Red Accent Streaks
Eye Color: Light Grey
Occupation: Photographer
Description: Onnetta typically dresses in all black, giving her a very edgy and gothic appearance. Most people avoid her, but those who do have the pleasure of speaking to her discover the sweet, bubbly, charismatic woman that she is.
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pmak2002 · 27 days
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There was something peaceful about laying on the bathroom floor with your sickly husband asleep on top of you.
He had a terrible stomach bug that had been keeping him up all night. You enjoyed the quiet that had finally settled in your small bathroom.
You laid awake as you played with Timothee’s sweaty curls.
You were grateful that he was finally able to get some rest. He had been miserable all day and now he was up during the night too.
You peppered kisses on his head and hummed to yourself. You could hear the sounds of NYC outside the window of the apartment building.
Timothee’s stomach gurgled uncomfortably as he laid ontop of you. Only wearing tank top and shorts as he was sweating buckets.
You rub his back and coax out a few burps and farts from him. His normally slim body was bloated from gas and it made him miserable and uncomfortable. Despite the bed made from multiple blankets and pillows on the floor next to you.
Timothee had rolled over to lay on you instead. He only wanted to be held while he slept. So you were stuck until his body decided it needed to purge itself. Thankfully he had been asleep for a while and you hoped it stayed that way.
You don't know how long you are out for. But when you wake up Timothee has gotten up groaning in pain clutching his stomach. He looks at you eyes glassy and tired.
His stomach making horrifically loud noises that sound like they really hurt.
timothee groans and rushes over to the toilet to have bad diarrhea, his shorts around his ankles and his whole body shakes from the effort of expelling watery waste.
You frown and go to kneel next to the toilet where Timothee removes his hand from his stomach to grab yours and place it where it hurts the most. You immediately begin to rub and gently massage his bloated belly.
“Hurting!” Timothee groans with each cramp.
“I know lovey I’m sorry.” You say. You gently massage his bloated stomach until he feels empty and has nothing left to expel out his backside.
You help him clean up and flush away his mess. Then help him return to the pile of pillows and blankets on the floor.
As soon as you sit down though he's on your lap whimpering and shaking. You frown as he's clearly becoming delirious from the high fever.
“Shh it’s alright you’re ok I’ve got you.” You say gently as you hold him in your arms. He buries his face in your neck.
Work had been a lot and he was so exhausted and in a way it was good that his body was forcing him to rest.
Of course he was absolutely miserable and in pain. That sucked but he needed all the rest he could get and now that he was sick. He could rest.
Timothee whines and nuzzles you.
You hold him tight and kiss his head. his stomach gurgling and bubbling as he sits on your lap. You use your other hand to gently massage his stomach.
You sit like this for a while holding him and trying to help him relax despite the pain in his belly. soon hes nauseous and leaning over the toiket burping up whatever is left in his stomach which isn't much of anything.
He whimpers and coughs as he spits into the toilet. You rub his back and stomach trying to help him find any relief from the aches in his gut.
"Why does it still hurt when I have nothing left?" He cries.
“I wish I knew.” You reply. You grab toilet paper to wipe his mouth. After tossing out the tissue you go and lay down on the floor with the blankets and pillows that were supposed to be for Timothee. He lays down on you like earlier and you wrap your arms around him and kiss his head.
“Time to sleep mon armor.” You say.
He yawns and you grab a blanket to pull over the both of you.
He sighs heavily and his entire body seems to finally relax and he falls asleep on you once again. You play with his hair until you fall asleep too.
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danafeelingsick · 19 days
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he's so full of birthday cake and grape juice
i'm feeling generous, so you guys will get this a day early. also not to be a freak but i gave him freckles
so, in continuing on that tummy rub minigame idea: i would love if characters had their favorite food and speciality dishes, and there is something like a count of how many they've eaten. how much is in their tummy now, and then, as they puke you get the countdown of how many dishes worth they are spewing. i don't know why by quantifying their tummy contents like this just gets me going. specially diluc! i feel like this man would have zero self-restraint. twindles his fingers and goes don't mind if I do, then eats and eats and until, oh no.
so, kaeya next? and what should i make him eat? 👀
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not to be gross but the idea of a boy looking so groggy and listless and pale-faced and sweaty. you can just tell by looking at him that he doesn’t feel good. you see his already chubby stomach. it’s gotten a bit swollen over the waistband of his flannel pajama bottoms, and you swear you hear it occasionally swirling with bubbles and churns, and awful, sick gurgling, but you don’t mention it so as to not embarrass him. he’s got messy hair and dark rings under his eyes. his stomach was bothering him all night. then he holds a curled fist to his mouth and either stifles a burp or feels himself about to get sick. his cheeks puff and he stumbles off to go throw up behind a bush or over a fence or something. it just drives me crazy, following him to make sure he’s okay, rubbing his arched back, hearing him retch and groan
—anyway
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sickficideas · 4 months
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moriarty brothers illness headcanons :)
William
- very easily motion sick. it's not as bad on trains or carriages but anything on water is guaranteed to make him feel nauseous
- prone to fevers...they're not always very high, but sometimes he'll be working all day with a low grade fever and no one will have a clue. once it gets high enough, though, everyone starts to notice, but William will usually keep working until someone makes him stop (and at that point he's a pushover)
- everyone is aware of his tendency to suddenly fall asleep (undiagnosed narcolepsy lol) but it's worse when he's sick, and he's much more difficult to wake when he's sick
- post-The Final Problem, he's gotten more sickly, and he's much more aware and accepting of when he needs to rest. he's often super faint and dizzy and has issues walking for long periods of time, so he always takes Sherlock's arm when it's too much
- Sherlock laying with him when he's not feeling well, giving him tummy rubs when he feels nauseous and making sure he's comfortable enough to sleep uninterrupted...William often makes himself feel worse when he worries about his family and even though Sherlock understands his pain he's gotten good at derailing his thoughts
Louis
- he has to take daily medication for his heart...if he ever misses a dose or the formulation is off, it's obvious - he's pale, dizzy, and faint all day. he will absolutely get irritable too. William will notice it coming on when he gets a little snappy
- he's generally pretty sickly, despite denying it, and he's not good at hiding anything or taking care of himself. anyone other than William has to tread carefully with accusing him of being sick because he'll get defensive. most of them have learned to just tell William if something is wrong with Louis instead of confronting him themselves. but Louis hates that even more, William worries too much about him 💔
- he has a very sensitive stomach...not only with food, but his stomach reacts to unpleasant sights and smells too to a certain extent. if he sees something that makes his stomach churn he'll turn around, cover his mouth and breathe hard through his nose and that usually works okay. he's used to his stomach hurting but tries to avoid throwing up at all cost, especially in front of others
Albert
- he is ridiculously good at hiding when he doesn't feel well. like William, he can continue working despite his condition, but he's much more stubborn about stopping. usually it works out in his favor but there has been a few times where he's truly needed help
- Mycroft has personally witnessed him very politely excuse himself to throw up and come back and seem perfectly fine, like nothing ever happened :) Mycroft thinks it's kind of attractive
- Albert is a pro at throwing up 🙏 it doesn't bother him much at all, and because of this he's very good at taking care of his brothers when their stomachs are sick
- he's not sick very often and generally has a good immune system, but stress will usually be the reason he falls ill. he's also fallen victim to a hangover every now and then too lol
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