#tw vomit

[gildedoak]

SEASON 1 FINALE, PART 1: Southern Comfort Food, Episode 13 - Apple Tartlets

>>PART TWO

(content warnings: hospitals, vomit)

An anonymous gift box arrived at the hotel...

SOUTHERN COMFORT FOOD SERIES Chicken and Waffles Sweet Tea Peach Cobbler Hushpuppies Crab/Crawfish Boil Gumbo (plus character notes!) Beignets (part 2) Shrimp and Grits Cornbread Biscuits and Gravy Pecan Pie/Sugar Pie Fried Catfish Apple Tartlets, Part 2

Description under the cut!

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: colored Hazbin Hotel comic

Panel 1: An arrangement of medical computer and lab equipment sits on a desk in the dark, but light emanates from the computer monitor. In the foreground, bathed in heavy shadow, is a slightly crushed bakery box, addressed to "Charlie Morningstar." A note on top reads, "Congratulations on the new program!" On the computer screen are various medical readings, along with an image of a small pie, with multiple warning icons around it. There are four vials of golden blood off to the side of the desk, and some kind of medical specimen scanning box with the small pie inside.

Panel 2: Lucifer blinks awake, wearing a blue hospital gown and bandages wrapped around his neck. There's a damp washcloth on his forehead. The bags under his eyes are more prominent, and he looks haggard and sick. Alastor (offscreen): You're finally awake. Charlie will be happy to hear it.

Panel 3: Lucifer looks over to see Alastor sitting next to the bed, aggressively wringing out another wet washcloth and looking irritated. Lucifer: Charlie... she's...? Alastor: She's safe, thanks to you. HOWEVER - she is fully prepared to give you a lengthy, HARSHLY WORDED lecture.

Panel 4: Alastor's neck snaps as he turns his head around, already shifting into his demonic form. Alastor: AND THAT'S ONLY IF I DON'T THROTTLE YOU *FIRST.* Lucifer (offscreen): But - !!

Panel 5: Alastor grows larger to the point where his face fills the panel, as he glares down at a tiny Lucifer, who looks terrified. Alastor: Six days. SIX DAYS you've been delirious with a raging fever and I swore that if the poison didn't kill you - I'D DO IT MYSELF.

Panel 6: Wide panel of Alastor in full demon form, towering over Lucifer lying in a hospital bed with an IV. Alastor: Because when Queen Belphegor told us those apple tartlets actually had *COMMUNION WAFERS* baked in the crust - I promised our daughter that I would turn you into a *FEATHER DUSTER* for being so reckless!!

Panel 7: Panel from Alastor's POV, Lucifer looking up at him, the washcloth having fallen to the side of the pillow. Alastor's hand curls around him, as if to maybe strangle him, but his hand is shaking, and Lucifer just holds his palm. Alastor (offscreen): NEXT TIME, DON'T -

Panel 8: Grayscale flashback to Lucifer vomiting up golden blood, clutching at the front of his shirt.

Panel 9: Grayscale flashback of Alastor carrying Lucifer in his arms - neither of their faces are visible. Indiscernible cries of alarm coming from the other residents. Lucifer's head lolls back as he starts to convulse, golden blood on his hands, his face, and the front of his shirt which has been unbuttoned along with his vest and bowtie.

Panel 10: Now back to his normal size, though his antlers are still prominent, Alastor hugs Lucifer to him, burying his face in his shoulder. Lucifer hugs back. Alastor: Just don't.

END DESCRIPTION]

[stealingyourbones]

Jason startles as a stranger on the streets of Gotham takes one look at him, looks at him in absolute horror, and then runs to the closest dumpster and vomits into it.

Jason is mildly offended. He doesn’t look that bad does he? — Danny glances back to look at the undead staring at him on the sidewalk and nearly vomits again. His soul is shattered. It’s like looking at a human after being hit by a car at 60mph who’s acting like they’re perfectly fine as they walk towards you. — Jason approaches the stranger, one hand hovering over the shoulder of the guy and asks; “Hey man what’s your problem? What's the deal w-”

The once retching passerby moves imperceptibly quick. His hands go through Jason’s chest and before he can even react he feels something snap back into place.

Jason can barely remember screaming as he near instantly blacks out from the pain.

[bamsara]

made these while plotting out chapter 18 of Trod

[thebibliosphere]

Have you ever vomited so hard you not only wrecked your throat but dislocated your collarbone?

How about a migraine so bad it triggers your mast cells into a pre-anaphylactic reaction and you start breaking out in hives all over your body?

Yeah. Me neither until 4 o’clock this morning.

New level of hell unlocked.

And the migraine is still ongoing. I’m just no longer blind and dry-heaving.

I hate this.

[pixlokita]

Page 37 🐻✨

Previous - next - first

[megamyceted]

THE LORDS & MOTHER MIRANDA pachislot BIOHAZARD village, 2023

[http-tokki]

if you’re unwell and have locked yourself in the bathroom, katsuki will NOT hesitate to breakdown the door. not in a scary kinda way but in the kinda way where you’ve called out to him because you need him but you can’t get to the door because you’re stuck with your head in the toilet. he knocks once softly, then again with a lil more force and then the third he’s asking if you’re anywhere near the door and when you answer with a weak “no” you hear a loud crash and suddenly your bathroom door is lying on your tiled floor, and Katsuki has your hair pulled back in his hands.

“did you just breakdown my door?” you ask quietly, wiping the back of your mouth with your hand, attention shifting to the broken piece of wood.

“you needed me.” is his only reply as you turn back to the bowl and spill your guts once again.

[aestheticallynotdeerlightful]

Thoughts and doodles

.

(Please do not use, or repost my works anywhere without explicit permission from me thank you <3)

[lotussart]

happy tummy hurt monday

[gothra]

I’ll never forget when I was arguing with a person in favor of total prison abolition and I asked them “what about violent offenders?” And they said “Well, in a world where prisons have been abolished, we’ll have leveled the playing field and everyone will have their basic needs met, and crime won’t be as much of an issue.” And then I was like “okay. But…no. Because rich people also rape and murder, so it isn’t just a poor person thing. So what will we do about that?” And I don’t think they answered me after that. I’m ashamed to say I continued to think that the problem was that I simply didn’t understand prison abolitionists enough and that their point was right in front of me, and it would click once I finally let myself understand it. It took me a long time to realize that if something is going to make sense, it needs to make sense. If you want to turn theory into Praxis (I’m using that word right don’t correct me I’ll vomit) everyone needs to be on board, which mean it all needs to click and it needs to click fast and fucking clear. You need to turn a complex idea into something both digestible and flexible enough to be expanded upon. Every time I ask a prison abolitionist what they actually intend to do about violent crime, I get directed to a summer reading list and a BreadTuber. It’s like a sleight-of-hand trick. Where’s the answer to my question. There it is. No wait, there it is. It’s under this cup. No it isn’t. “There’s theory that can explain this better than I can.” As if most theory isn’t just a collection of essays meant to be absorbed and discussed by academics, not the average skeptic. “Read this book.” And the book won’t even answer the question. The book tells you to go ask someone else. “Oh, watch this so-and-so, she totally explains it better than me.” Why can’t you explain it at all? Why did you even bring it up if you were going to point me to someone else to give me the basics that you should probably already know? Maybe I’m just one of those crazy people who thinks that some people need to be kept away from the public for everyone’s good. Maybe that just makes me insane. Maybe not believing that pervasive systemic misogyny could be solved with a UBI and a prayer circle makes me a bad guy. But it’s not like women’s safety is a priority anyway. It’s not like there is an objective claim to be made that re-releasing violent offenders or simply not locking them up is deadly.

[cheesecakethots]

“Whore.”

You could’ve sworn the teacup in your hands cracked a little from how hard you’re gripping it. If you were Illumi, it would’ve shattered into a fine powder by now. But you’re not, which makes you susceptible to being called such things.

They’re at it again. You’re unsure as to what you’ve done to upset some of the butlers and maids, but god do they not like you. No matter. You hate everyone in this stupid boring ugly manor anyway. Huh. Maybe that’s why they hate you, too.

It must’ve been a shock to see Illumi of all people one day bring home his future wife. One he never cared to mention to anyone else beforehand, and one that was still kicking and screaming over his shoulder.

You’re not really sure how long you’ve been here. Months? A year now? However long it’s been, it didn’t take anytime at all to realise that maybe you’re not as safe here as Illumi swears you to be. His mother most definitely hates you, but, oh well, she’s never really tried anything, as far as you know.

The help started muttering things when Illumi wasn’t around, things that hurt more than you wanted to admit. When you didn’t go running off to Illumi at the first few instances of it, it got worse, as though they knew you would never tell him about it.

First off, you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of being your saviour when someone says mean things to you. Secondly, you may hate these assholes, but you have a conscience.

Only last week Illumi came into your shared bedroom, absolutely drenched in blood, asking if you could shower together. You quickly found out that whoever he had been torturing wasn’t dead yet, and he still had more to do.

Thinking about what Illumi does to people he doesn’t care about, those he’s only hurting for a job, makes you shiver at the thought of him actually harming someone who did him, or you, wrong. But, despite your mercy on them, this time you’re considering just telling him. Only a little.

You’ve had a notably stressful day, being pranced around by his mother who’s insistent on ‘training’ you to be the perfect wife for her son. Her explaining to you that the family expects at least six children from you both had you rushing to the bathroom to vomit.

Then you ran into his father, on your way back to your room. He doesn’t seem to actively dislike you, but he scares the absolute shit out of you. The man seems to think you’re some house pet rather than an actual person with thoughts and feelings, but you suppose that’s a modicum better than wanting you dead.

You also bumped into Illumi’s grandfather. You’re not sure if you can bring yourself to hate him, but you do hate the look of pity in his eyes whenever he sees you. Sometimes he’ll save you from a lecture Illumi’s mother is giving you, so he’s nice in that regard. He’d never free you, though, so he’s just another kidnapper you can’t become friendly with.

You eventually got back to your room, expecting a nice nap before being forced to attend family dinner, only to find Illumi had gotten back earlier than expected. You cringed at how hungry he was, and not for food, but just allowed him to do as he wished. You were too tired to argue. After he was done, he seemed to take note of how quiet and exhausted you were. Too bad, dinner time. You hated dinner times more than anything else.

You ate the admittedly lovely food in pure silence, but quickly became sick to your stomach at hearing Illumi and his mother discuss the prospects of you becoming pregnant. You didn’t eat anymore after that. You’re pretty sure his brother, Milluki, made some comment about you that Illumi didn’t like, which explains why his wrist was snapped in half a few seconds later.

Illumi tried spoon feeding you when noticing how full your plate was, but you managed to convince him that you weren’t hungry. That got you another lecture from his mother about how you’ll soon be eating for two. You were tempted to tell her that if you ever got pregnant you’d throw yourself into Mike’s jaws, but managed to refrain.

After that, you finally got to go to bed. It wasn’t something you were looking forward to anymore; you struggled to sleep when Illumi was home because he’d spend the majority of the night just staring at you.

“Can I go outside?”

You don’t remember why you blurted it or where the thought came from, but you remember the confused blink Illumi gave in response.

“Um.. just for.. ten minutes? O-Or five..? I just want to sit in the garden by myself for a bit… If not, it’s alright..”

You hated how pathetic you sounded, unsure as to what Illumi was thinking when he stared at you with that expressionless face.

“Alright.”

“What?”

“Would you like me to ask a maid to bring you out a cup of tea?”

You didn’t really think about his words too much, just happy you got something your way for once, and nodded rather enthusiastically. You should’ve said no.

The first few minutes of being in the garden, sat on the bench and allowing the cool nights breeze to settle on your skin had you relaxing for the first time in a while.

“Your tea, mistress.”

Oh. It was one of the ones you were sure hated you, and behind him was another. Oh, well. You took the tea from his hands, thanking them nonetheless.

It was much more bitter than you liked it, but you didn’t complain. You didn’t really want tea in the first place. They didn’t leave, but you didn’t complain. Illumi probably asked them to watch over you, maybe to make sure you didn’t try to run. It’s alright, you still have a nice view to relax with.

“Whore.”

Your eyes widen a little, and your grip on the cup increases. They continue muttering amongst themselves, but you catch small, demeaning phrases that you’re certain are aimed at you.

Why are you a whore? You’d never even had sex before you met Illumi, and if you had, it wouldn’t be their business. You’re hardly allowed to interact with anyone other than who Illumi allows you to. Where would you have the chance to sleep around? The insult doesn’t make much sense.

That’s what you tell yourself, despite the fact that your shoulders and hands are shaking and you feel something cold and wet running down your cheeks.

Shit.

You put the cup on the floor, hands moving to cover your face and wipe away any evidence of tears. Illumi hated when you cried.

Why are you still crying? What they said doesn’t make any sense. Stop crying, enjoy the view. You don’t have long left before you have to go back inside.

You’re still crying. You don’t notice that it’s gone eerily silent aside from your own muffled sobs, too busy working on shutting yourself up.

“[Name].”

Shit. Shit!

He’s been sat next to you for god knows how long now, and you didn’t even realise. God, this sucks.

“Why are you crying?” Illumi asks, and you can feel him move closer to you on the bench.

“I-I’m not,” you say, a hand still covering your eyes. What excuse do you give? If you say hay fever will he never let you out in the garden again? If you say you have a cold, will he keep you inside your bedroom for a few weeks? Months?

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel him staring at you.

“Would you like to stay outside for a bit longer?”

Oh.

“Ye-Yeah. Y-Yes please,” you eventually reply, gulping down another sob.

He doesn’t leave, but you’re less bothered by his presence than usual. Despite it being… him, it’s not horrible to have some company, even though you’d never admit it out loud.

You’re not sure how long you sit outside before he stands, prompting you to do the same. Neither of you say anything, not until you reach your bedroom and Illumi tells you in a tone softer than you’d usually hear from him that he has something he must do, so you’ll be sleeping alone tonight.

You turn to go to bed, but he grabs your wrist. He doesn’t look at you for a moment, seemingly considering something. Then, he stiffly leans forward, pressing his lips to your forehead rather robotically. Sometimes you wonder if he is a robot, it really would explain a lot.

The kiss ends soon after it begins.

“Get some rest. You look bad.”

You huff a little, but can’t bring yourself to actually be offended due to the thinly veiled concern in his tone.

The sleep you get is better than you expected. Maybe not having a mass murderer eyeing you up while you try and rest is a reason for that.

Illumi doesn’t show up for the entirety of the next day, which is a little strange. He likes seeing you off in the morning, giving you a kiss before he departs - you’re certain he copied it from a romance movie you used to enjoy watching from time to time. You don’t question his absence too much, you don’t exactly enjoy his company, after all.

The day you have is better than the last. Illumi’s mother seems to be a bit less of a bitch than usual. That’s a win in your book.

It doesn’t take long for you to be back in your warm bed, wrapped up in covers and drifting off to sleep.

You wake up to the feeling of something wet hitting the tip of your nose, and quiet breathing above you.

“Are you awake?”

You are now. It’s pitch black in the room, but you can make out Illumi looming over, his hair framing around you like some makeshift cage.

Still sleepy, you groan a little, “Illumi? What… time is it?”

Something wet hits the bed.

“2:57 AM.”

Huh. You breathe in through your nose. Illumi absolutely reeks. Metallic, is it? You’re not sure it’s the best idea to comment on it.

“Oh. Okay.”

Another drip of something onto the blanket. He doesn’t seem to be in the talking mood.

“Have I done something wrong?”

“… Yes.”

Another.

You gulp. “Are you mad at me?”

“I don’t think so.”

Another drip, this time it hits your arm.

“Are you going to hurt me?”

You could’ve sworn you saw his eyes narrow in the darkness.

“No.”

The silence is deafening. Your hands clutch onto the end of the blanket. He leans impossibly closer, and the stench of whatever is on him becomes all too familiar. He’s smelt like it before, but never this strong.

“How long were the help bothering you?”

“Since I got here.” There’s little point in trying to lie about it now.

“If you hide something from me again I’ll break three of your fingers.”

A little specific, but the threat certainly does the job.

“Okay. I’m… sorry.” You’re not.

Finally, he pulls away, eyes still trained on your face.

“Go to sleep.”

You don’t. You’re certain that you can’t, at least not for tonight. Especially not after hearing him turn the shower on, and after he’s done leave the room once more.

Instead, you sit and stare at the ceiling, and wonder if any of those in the basement will even have three fingers left of them, by the time he’s done.

[zu-is-here]

<– • –>

[digitulart]

from the expression chart. thank yew everyone who sent an ask from Various Websites YAY

[bamsara]

'whoops'

tfw you accidentally resurrect something because your emotions went a little too haywire. very rough scribbles for a scene in TROD maybe later

[lawrencespen1777]

“What just happened?”

“I was gonna ask you. Do you feel okay?

“I…don’t know? I feel weird. Tingly.”

“Yeah I bet. Hey, no, don’t try to move. Not yet. Give it a second.”

“What?”

“Someone’s coming to check you out.”

“Like an ambulance? Why?”

“Because when someone goes from fine to unconscious in .3 seconds it makes people feel a bit uncomfortable.”

“Am I unconscious?”

“Well not now. But yeah, a few seconds ago.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand what’s…gah. My head is banging.”

“You and the wall had a quick love connection on your way down. You made an impression…literally.”

“I don’t feel so good.”

“I figured that one out on my own.”

“No I mean I’m gonna puke.”

“HOLY sh-.”

“I’m sorry…oh my God I’m sorry I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. Take it easy. You’re gonna be alright.”

“Please don’t leave.”

“I’m not leaving. I’m here.”

[thebibliosphere]

You know yesterday was absolutely fucked because I've got zero guilt about not bouncing back and doing work today.

Normally, after I lose a day to a migraine, I'm furious about the lost time and force myself to do stuff. Yesterday was so bad, though. With hindsight, I probably should have gone to the ER, but the thought of getting in the car and dealing with the bill was just... I couldn't do it.

Unfortunately, that does mean I'm now dealing with the consequences of severe dehydration and my cervical instability being extremely unstable because I spent 12+ hours throwing up, so now I'm POTSy and bobble-headed because all my neck muscles are fucked and I'm just... I'm just going to lay here for a while.

Maybe the rest of the week.