#vomiting cw

[thelittlestspider]

Daredevil (2011) Vol. 6

#daredevil #matt murdock #foggy nelson #mattfoggy #vomiting cw

[thisfeebleheart]

für @hope-calaris

#tatort saarbrücken #leo hölzer #spatort #vomiting cw #my posts #für hope's hurt/comfort herz

[maybethings]

(Riffing off this sequence of fanart)

Duncan’s last human recruit is staring at the Joining chalice with a look the senior Warden has never seen before. He can’t say if the sandy-haired young man is having second thoughts, or planning to run or fight or—

“I wonder how we could make this taste better.” Duncan’s eyebrows rocket upward. The young man rambles on, oblivious to the others’ bewildered stares. “It already smells like darkspawn and raw sheep guts, so perhaps if we added some spices?” He sniffs the chalice with the delicacy of a teyrn sampling the bouquet of a royal wine. “No, no good, it’d probably just smell like spiced raw sheep guts. But if the blood was left to set, like a pudding or in sheets, it would be easier to carry and consume.” Another thoughtful sniff. “Hey Duncan, is there rashvine in this?”

The Dalish mage standing nearby, on her last nerve for the past five days, finally loses her composure. “Just drink the vile thing already, Laios!”

Chastened, Laios knocks back a large draught of the stuff. Then he becomes very quiet, very pale, and a very twitchy heap on the ground, in that order.

Strange images flash through his mind. Hordes of darkspawn. Burning houses. His old hunting dog, howling and bleeding all black. Falin, disintegrating in a cloud of leaves and feathers. A sword that grows tentacles. The archdemon, a great dragon of decay and damnnation. It spreads its wings and fixes its hateful eyes upon him, maw open in a scream. The sound pierces his marrow with—fear? Curiosity? Hunger? His? The beast’s? He feels his heart pounding harder than it’s ever beat in his short and shabby life. His heart pounds and his lungs inflate and his guts twist—

A few tense minutes later, Laios Touden, newly-minted Grey Warden, last doomed defender of the innocent, bolts upright and noisily empties his stomach contents onto the grass. Marcille the elf blanches, but stands her ground, muttering to herself.

“When this is over, we’ve got to make that stuff taste better,” he wheezes.

Warden Senshi grunts in agreement through his impressive beard, offers him a hand to pull him upright. “Aye, that’d probably get more recruits. Now did you say darkspawn blood pudding?”

#let’s just say Duncan’s recruitment drive was successful. very very successful #dungeon meshi #dragon age origins #dragon age #dunmeshi #crossover #my work #my writing #laios #senshi #marcille #there’s not really a halfling slash halffoot equivalent in thedas so chilchuck is uh. around. somewhere. #it would be extremely funny to make him the brosca or something though #alternative: chilchuck the anti-zevran #tag abuse #vomiting cw

[lestatslestits]

@whumpuary Prompt 2 — “Get Away From Me”

Fandom: Doctor Who

Word Count: 1069

Warnings: Emetophobia, contagious illness, spoilers for the 2023 Doctor Who specials

The problem with inviting a nine hundred plus year old Time Lord into your home is that suddenly you’ve got a nine hundred plus year old Time Lord in your home. This means various things in various circumstances, but in this particular circumstance it means being awakened at half-three in the morning to the sound of said Time Lord in the loo vomiting his brains out. Donna Noble traces the noise and finds him huddled on the tile floor, sweat drenched and shivering. His face is a constellation of burst capillaries that burn bright red against his otherwise stark white skin, and his eyes stream tears involuntarily as he recovers from what is clearly not his first round of painful heaves.

Leaning on the door frame, Donna tightens the belt of her dressing gown so that she has something to do with her hands. “Oi, Spaceman. What’s all this, then?” Her words are familiar, practiced, but she keeps her tone uncharacteristically soft. He glances up at her, slack-jawed and swallowing convulsively.

“Donna, get away from me,” he orders with all of the authority he can muster. Which isn’t much (he’s barefoot and clad in silk pyjamas).

Read the rest on AO3

#whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno2 #get away from me #doctor who #doctor who fanfiction #fourteenth doctor #donna noble #vomiting cw #emetophobia cw #doctor who spoilers

[ask-dipstick]

Do you have fleas?

mysterious orb ACQUIRED! What shall you do next?

#mommyclan #dipstick oc #warrior cats #warriors #warrior cats art #warriors art #warrior cats oc #warriors oc #dipstick #emetophobia #vomiting #vomiting cw

[oculusxcaro]

Home sick today so not sure what I'm going to be today and tomorrow, sadly. I was also requested to cover Easter this coming week so going to be busy at work on top of being unwell. Save me. 🥴

#🌈 || musings #;; mun bullshit #Yeah I'm uhh... not well #vomiting tw #vomiting cw #Luckily because my tum's been so dodgy the last two days I haven't eaten a lot but today WOW #Slept three hours and can't stop going to the bathroom so now I'm mad #Don't feel all that bad surprisingly but stomach's gonna need soft stuff like banana and porridge for a few days #And ginger tea #;; delete later #Felt shitty last week feel shitty today haha

[ghostzvne]

A.C.D'S GUIDE TO PUKING IN PUBLIC

a helpful and comedic zine about my experiences of vomiting in public spaces due to my chronic illness.

i've been sick for quite a few years and i've developed a lot of tips and tricks for when you can't control your vomiting that i've decided to share with the world!

BUY THE PDF FOR $2+ HERE

itchio || website || patreon

#dannywords #vomiting cw #hope you guys like this because i'm moderately proud of it! #and i hope it does end up being helpful despite all the Jokes TM

[seven-stars-in-his-palm]

do you remember hanging up the stars update ! 🙌🌟

chapter 5: trials and tribulation

summary: it’s post hell-rising. aziraphale is dealing with the fallout out of his failed Plan, and crowley is honestly just trying to survive with the new idea that hell could come down at any second and beat their asses for (what it looks to him) no reason. they still don’t talk.

cw for vomiting, bugs/maggots, and guilt. hopefully the next chapter won’t have any trigger warnings 🤞

—

second proper update post ! hopefully one day I can look back at these and laugh. enjoy comfort maybe? depends on your idea of comfort. enjoy regardless <3

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable spouses #good omens fanfiction #maniac writing #fic update #bugs cw #vomiting cw

[rissynicole]

“ let me look at you… ““ are you okay with me touching you? ““ does that hurt? “ Professor Membrane saying one or all of these to Dib, whose been having a really bad stomachache. He actually has appendicitis. I hope a sickfic is okay!

Hey, a sickfic is always okay! 

Context: this was part of a whump/injury sentence-starter ask game. I got really carried away with some asks people sent in, and it took me an absurdly long time to finish the stories.

This was fun. I don’t write enough of Membrane. Or Gaz. This was a really good writing exercise for me! Also, shoutout to my cousin who coincidentally got appendicitis while I was writing this. Thanks for the additional insight on appendicitis, I guess? Hope you feel better, Cuz.

Prompts:

“Let me look at you…”

“Are you okay with me touching you?”

“Does that hurt?”

Characters: Dib, Gaz, Professor Membrane

Relationships: Just good ole’ family dynamics. Brother and sister have each other’s backs, dad is overprotective. 

Words: 1,544

“Let me look at you.”

Dib pulled the mess of blankets over his head and turned his face towards the wall. “No,” he groaned. “Just… go with Gaz.”

Membrane stood by his bedside for a moment, obviously rethinking his tactics. For all his quick wit in the more linear side of life, it somehow hadn’t managed to translate to interpersonal matters—something that was more a little problematic when handling things like this. His son hadn’t bothered to leave his bed since the night before and was presently curled into a ball and clutching his stomach. Meanwhile, Gaz was still in her room, getting ready for her high school graduation rehearsal.

“I would really feel better if you let me examine you downstairs in the home lab,” he tried again.

Dib didn’t budge. “I just have food poisoning or something. I’ll be fine.”

“But—”

“—Dad?” Gaz appeared in the doorway, donned in a creased cap and gown. “We’re going to be late.” She reached up to adjust one of many bobby pins keeping her cap in place.

“In a moment. Your brother is ill and refusing treatment.”

Dib uncovered his face slightly cast an exhausted, low-lidded stare at her. She met it briefly and pursed her lips. She turned back to their father. “So? He’s nineteen. He can handle himself. Let’s just go.”

Membrane looked ready to start arguing again. Under the pressure of his children’s expectant gazes, though, he warily trudged back to the doorway. He gave one final glance at Dib from behind his thick lab goggles before softly shutting the door.

Dib buried his face into his pillow and groaned as another sharp pang tore through his stomach. He could still hear the two of them outside his bedroom. Words here and there, especially Gaz’s higher tone, managed to permeate through the thin walls and make their way to his ears.

“—We haven’t exactly had great experiences with your medical ‘treatment,’” Gaz said deadpan.

Instantly, memories of her media-circus extravaganza as “pig girl,” when she was ten circulated through Dib’s head.

She wasn’t wrong. If anything, she was saying exactly what Dib wanted to say, but couldn’t. The last thing he needed was to be roused from bed and forced downstairs to the lab to be poked and prodded. Normal children enjoyed sick days at home with game shows and chicken soup. He and Gaz had grown up riding out malaise in a freezing basement atop exam tables, shivering away while their father took notes and attempted to create permanent cures for the uncommon cold or invent a mayonnaise that never spoiled. His intentions were good—he even went so far as to give them second-hand anxiety in his frantic concern for them. In practice, though, it was far better to just avoid even letting him know they were sick.

Dib couldn’t avoid it this time, though. The pain had come on almost immediately that morning, and he’d spent a substantial portion of the day vomiting and drifting in and out of strange, shallow slumber while cramps wracked through his abdomen. He found himself falling asleep again as his father and Gaz continued arguing in the hallway. Their voices felt farther and farther away until disappearing completely.

-x-

The crash of the slamming front door echoed throughout the house.

Almost instantaneously, Dib jerked awake in a nauseous sweat. He didn’t sit up, but simply stared wide eyed into his now-dark room as his father and sister noisily tromped through the kitchen. They must have just gotten back from the graduation rehearsal.

How long have I been asleep?

He craned his neck to glance at his clock but couldn’t see anything beyond a dim red glow across his nightstand. He was still curled in the fetal position on his side, still holding his stomach. “Uuuughhhhh.”

His dreams had been bizarre, filled with dizzying repetition and strange, anxiety-inducing plotlines that could only make sense to an unconscious mind. Just remembering them made him feel woozy again…

His queasiness coincided perfectly with another rush of sharp, stabbing pain. He uncurled just enough to lean over his bed and vomit noisily into a bucket sitting nearby for this very purpose.

Just as he finished, his father knocked at the door. “Dib?”

“Yeah?” he weakly asked the dark room.

“I’m letting you rest,” he started, somewhat begrudgingly. “But… are you okay?”

Dib paused a moment too long before answering. “Mmmhmm,” he said after a minute.

“Okay then…”

Even in his state, he could tell his father was holding back everything he could to not haul him down to the basement to run tests on him. He didn’t stop to consider this for very long, though, before drifting into a shallow sleep.

-x-

“Have you checked on your brother?” Membrane was sitting at the table the next morning, nursing a cup of tea.

Gaz ambled past him and began rifling through the refrigerator. “No. But I think he’s just trying to sleep it off. Stomach bugs suck.”

A patch of sunshine seeped through the kitchen window and landed in a patch on the ground. Membrane watched it speculatively.

“Have any of your classmates been sick with something similar?”

Gaz poked her head out of the fridge. “I don’t think so.” She shrugged and continued searching for the strawberry jam.

“Anyone at Dib’s college? Did he mention anything?”

Gaz simply shrugged again. “No? I dunno.” She plunked the jam onto the kitchen table and began messing with the coffee maker.

Membrane stood up, slowly at first, as if he was afraid Gaz would catch him and force him to sit back down. “I’m just going to go check in on him…”

He scaled the staircase, perturbed at how quiet the upper level was. He stopped outside Dib’s room and knocked.

Nothing.

He knocked again, this time a little louder.

“Uuugh…” A small, hoarse groan answered him. He took this as invitation enough and opened the door.

“Son?”

All that was visible was a very limp, very mussed lock of scythe-like hair strewn across his pillow. The rest of Dib was clearly balled up beneath the comforter.

“Are you okay?”

The mass of blankets was silent. Then, very softly, “…No.”

Membrane quickly crossed the room and uncovered the blankets.

Dib’s skin had taken on a sallow, waxy tone and he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Both hands were in the same place they’d been the day before, pressed against his stomach until he was gasping for air.

“How long have you been like this?!” Membrane demanded. Already, his head was swirling with a million different possibilities.

A shaky pull of breath prefaced Dib’s words. “It got worse a few hours ago. I’ve never had stomach pain like this before.”

His father reached down, then paused. “Are you okay with me touching you?”

Dib nodded, then cringed into his mattress and pressed his hands tighter into his stomach.

Membrane waited for the pain to pass then, with considerable trepidation, he tried to move Dib’s hands away from his abdomen. With the same amount of unease, the latter obliged.

The tips of two prosthetic fingers pressed into the upper left of his son’s torso. “Does that hurt?”

Dib shook his head frantically, grabbing his father’s hand and guiding it to his lower abdomen, right next to his belly button.

Membrane’s eyebrows raised over his goggles. “There? That’s where it hurts?”

He nodded, tensing up again. His stomach was bloated outwards, looking odd against what was normally a very lean build.

It would have been very easy for Membrane to burst out with his diagnosis in triumph before carting off his child to surgery. It certainly would have been a needed release for the rush of panic that had washed over him. Instead, he looked down at his now-adult son and composed himself the best he could. “Dib?”

One eye cracked open to glance up at him.

Membrane paused before speaking. “You are showing classic signs of appendicitis. It is vital you come with me.”

Dib’s eyes flew open, and he lifted his head off the pillow. He somehow managed to go even paler. “W-what?”

Membrane simply nodded. “Can you stand up?”

Filled with sudden adrenaline, Dib stumbled out of bed, still hunched over in pain. “Okay. Okay… I’ll go downstairs… I just—”

“—No,” Membrane interrupted. “Not the home lab. The hospital wing at Membrane Labs. If I am correct in my diagnosis, you’re going to need emergency surgery.”

Dib froze up, looking queasy. “And you’re sure?” he squeaked out.

“I won’t know for sure without running tests… an ultrasound… but…” he paused, knowing that each word he said was just making Dib more apprehensive about going with him. “… I am fairly confident.”

Dib shuddered and held his stomach, then stumbled forward. Membrane caught his arm and held him steady. Dib was just as tall as he was, something that was disarming to see up close. He leaned his weight against Membrane’s shoulder. For a moment, he stood there, head down and facing the carpet. Then, in a quiet voice, “Okay. I trust you. Let’s go.”

#invader zim #appendicitis cw #vomiting cw #my writing #dib #professor membrane

[officialbabayaga]

PSA from someone who has extreme & prolonged bouts of nausea from some health conditions, because I’ve realized a lot of people don’t know this:

If you’re feeling sick and have an empty stomach, either from vomiting or because you haven’t eaten yet, do not drink water without getting a little food in too because there’s a strong chance you’ll just throw it up again

Even a few saltines can help! I’ve seen people accidentally trigger a cyclical vomiting attack from not knowing this so please keep it mind

Also, consider the BRAT diet:

bananas

rice

applesauce

toast

Unless you’ve got specific food restrictions, these are gentle on stomachs and can help a lot. saltines and instant breakfasts are lifesavers for me too when i’m food-repulsed but need to eat

#idk man i’ve grown up throwing up a LOT so these are things i thought was universal knowledge #*were. autocorrect #but maybe not! and knowing them makes a huge difference! #so if this even helps one person i’ll be glad i said something #zoe stuff #vomiting cw #this isn’t an ED thing but if anyone needs me to tag this as anything else please let me know

[sketchtxt]

I wish I knew that I can't take medicine because I'll just vomit it out... because I took an awful-tasting medicine and EVERY time I vomit my mouth tastes like it again 😭😭😭 it didn't even get to help me I vomited within 5 minutes of taking it

#🪶 book & quill #cw vomiting #vomiting cw #just in case ?? #i know some people cant handle ir

[fletcherwilbury]

@sicktember Day 17: Alt Prompt 4: Forehead Kisses

Warning for Doctor setting, surgery mention, eye trauma mention, vomiting, misgendering, exhaustion

#sicktember #sicktember 2023 #sicktember day 17 #alt prompt 4 #forehead kisses #tmnt #tmnt 2012 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2012 donnie #tmnt 2012 splinter #tmnt 2012 casey jones #tmnt 2012 raph #tmnt 2012 mikey #tmnt 2012 april #jonatello #doctor setting cw #surgery mention tw #eye trauma mention tw #vomiting cw #misgendering tw #exhaustion cw

[jedi-kat-18]

2 men and a kaiju, newt and stacker: hannibal? uh. nope. haven't seen him.

"Hannibal? Uh... nope. Haven't seen him." Newt said, very obviously lying. "No clue what happened to him." "Newt." Stacker said. He was careful to keep his tone calm, and not make eye contact with the baby Kaiju standing next to him. The last thing thing he wanted to do was spook the thing. "I'm not angry with you, I just want to know what happened to Hannibal Chau. You were the last person who saw him, correct?" "I have absolutely no idea where he is." Newt said, sweating bullets. Then Kodachi started gagging. Stacker took two big steps to the left. Newt started looking rather ill. Kodachi made an awful noise, like a cat coughing up a massive hairball. Then she retched, and with another awful noise, spat something blue and slimy onto the floor. It took a second for Stacker to notice it, but poking out of the slime was a single gold-plated shoe. Hannibal Chau groaned, pulled himself up, and wiped some of the slime off his face. "Where's my shoe?"

#two men and a kaiju #my weird little man #stacker pentecost #kodachi #hannibal chau #vomiting cw #hannibal's fine #they'll have to power wash the kaiju slime off him #and he's absolutely furious #but he's fine 🙃

[lyriumrain]

Ever since my roommates changed their cat's food to a an expensive teeth cleaning one, one of the cats has been occasionally throwing up the entire contents of her stomache after eating 😑

they bought "elevated cat bowls" a week ago in hopes it would help, but obviously it didnt cause she threw up right in front of me today 😭

#emetophobia #vomiting cw #it's annoying me because she's only done it when I'm home alone so i gotta clean it up 😑 #but I'm also concerned that she's evacuating all her food and then eating more right after #skip talks

[lunarscaled]

∗ o1﹕ sender  tucks  hair  out  of  receiver’s  face .

∗ 95﹕ sender  cradles  receiver’s  face .

∗ 45﹕ sender  kisses  receiver’s  [ forehead / cheek ] .

NONVERBAL PROMPTS

-> Their body goes rigid at the sound of two open palms clapping together in the sickly heat, just once. The confident cue of attention from a teacher standing at the head of a huddle of elementary students in their little sunhats and florescent matching school t-shirts so they don't get lost on the Conservatory grounds. Rudbeckia, periwinkle, and marigold sway unabashedly about their ankles in neatly tidied rows; the arched stones that line the edges scrape the sides of their shoes when they try to lift their feet but can't. Find themselves unable to when all the nerves have gone into keeping themselves ramrod upright, into the cold seize of their lungs that chokes their breath, control the way their body sweats and gasps and grabs for nothing found within themselves. It is the posture of someone waiting for something---the barely hunched angle of their shoulders forward and pulled closer to their ears, how their fingers curl into their palms but don't quite make a fist. Nausea, the burn of acid in the back of their throat and the drop in the pit of their stomach, they think any moment they'll ruin this haven of cultivation and blooms with the sick wet sound of puking their guts out.

They do. Hands gripping a fence railing, white-knuckled; their whole torso pushes with the action. It's all bile and iced coffee and water because they didn't have the energy to eat again this morning, and it was too hot to want to anyways, and they shiver like a drowned rat. Sweat slicks their forehead and the back of their neck and the back of their shirt and their calves. They give one single, sharp sob and make not another noise the whole time.

"---Ironweed... goldenrod... sunflower... aster..."

-> When their focus stops spinning out of control, they realize there is less hair in their face than normal. His palm rests on their back between their shoulders with the worst, messiest loose locks of their hair in his loose grip. ( the thought passes that it's too hot to touch anyone right now, and he must hate it. having to comfort them unnecessarily. having to appear responsible for them instead of being able to pass them off as strangers. he must resent them for it, Lyric thinks, he must feel as sick as they do just being near them like this. ) Shuddering through motions and abdominal pain: they can name every flower in this garden on sight and hold onto it like the only thing keeping them together. Maybe it is.

"Milkweed, buttonbush, lavender, bergamot..."

-> They lift their head just a little. Their body feels exhausted and heavy; it doesn't feel like it belongs to them. His hand stays on their back.

"... ... my mom's favorite flower isn't here."

-> Tremors in their hands run up their arms, into their shoulders---they lift their head, but their stare is miles away. Their hands around the railing are wet with ice that creeps and melts just as quickly, unable to build itself in this unforgiving heat. A hot wind blows through the grasses and flowers and them; what hair he wasn't holding twists at its whim, yet another thing they could not control.

"She had a lily garden at home, and after she died I tried to take care of it, but I didn't..."

-> Their voice cracks. It's so awful, so pitiful, they want to clamp their teeth shut and stop talking right then and there, but they feel like they'll be sick again if they don't keep their mouth open and breathe, or tear their own skin off, or something. Their body prickles, irritable and uncomfortable and upset, and they feel so weak they'd rather die than be like this.

"I didn't know how. And I couldn't control it yet, the magic---when I got upset the whole bed frosted over. It was my fault. And then when dad found out, he..."

-> They suck in a breath so shaky it could hardly be considered breathing. They try to stand up straighter even if they're trembling. ( but they don't want to think about it. they don't feel like they're here at all. they're so cold they feel like they're freezing to death, and so hot they think they'll pass out, and their body feels like someone is pulling each piece out individually until they drop dead from bloodloss. )

"... he would drag me to the barn by my hair, so Marianne and Claudia couldn't see or hear. And he would get the bullwhip."

-> ... Were they alive right now? How had they survived that? Did they even want to? Was living a choice? They remember thumbing through a poetry book in a shop after they had run away from home, trying to stay out of the rain without getting any water on the pages. There was still stains of a nosebleed on the collar of their shirt. ( 'You realize that grief is perhaps the last and final translation of love...' ) Bleu, he says. They don't hear.

( '...and you realize that it will never end. you get to do this---' )

-> Bleu. His hands gently take their face, the first sensation they feel, like a child's first scraped knee. His fingers push hair away from their face at the roots, smooth it back until it no longer hides their face or their scales, so his palms can sit flat against their cheeks. A thumb runs under their eyes, far and unfocused. He presses his lips to their hairline and has to bend all the way down to do it; is it a kiss or a plead. Hey---Come back. They hadn't gone anywhere, had they?

"... I still love my dad. I just wish he loved me as much."

( '---to translate this last act of love for the rest of your life.' )

#villain he #* questions and answers. #🌙 you're the first starlight reborn through the night ( main. ) #me writing this: i am going to make something that hurts me so much #child abuse cw #vomiting cw #dissociation cw

[sensitive-trait]

Kate spent most of her first trimester plagued by morning sickness, day and night. At work, she can't stand the smells of the chemicals in the lab which means she's stuck writing reports instead. It's incredibly tedious work that just makes her look forward to her coming family leave.

Watching his wife suffer leaves James feeling utterly helpless, and as a result, he’s been throwing himself into his work to help him cope. The military was never his dream, but as he rises through the ranks, he starts to appreciate the structure and the comradery the job provides. 

They both work hard and come home exhausted each night. But they cherished those final evenings when it was just them. Able to curl up together and sit in silence, eagerly awaiting the chaos ahead.

#postcard legacy challenge #The Carson Legacy #Carson: Gen 2 #sims 4 story #ts4 gameplay #Katherine Carson #James Borden #cw pregnancy #vomiting cw #vomiting tw #emetophobia tw #emetophobia cw