dontxnumber - Tumblr blog

[dontxnumber]

someone saying "I don't feel good" after belching....

[dontxnumber]

[dontxnumber]

I am once again thinking about characters getting sick in the middle of the night

[dontxnumber]

Really love the image of characters throwing up so violently it comes out of their nose

[dontxnumber]

Have you written anything where Benji had to ride out an illness by himself? 👀

I had wayyyy too much fun writing this.

CW: emeto, implied scat, hurt with no comfort, character living out of a car, abuse mention, blood mention, financial insecurity.

--

“Hey, Red.”

Apprehension clung to Benji as he turned to face his boss guiltily.

“What?” he grit out through clenched teeth. He’d been holding a torque wrench to his forehead, basking in the coolness the metal offered. Without the blissful cold against his skin, he could already feel another hot flash starting to trickle down the back of his neck. He swallowed with unease.

Rick was leaning against the doorframe to his office with crossed arms, looking thoroughly unimpressed with the 20 year old in front of him. He clicked his teeth and looked the boy up and down. Benji squirmed under his watchful eye and met his eyes defiantly when he received no immediate reply to his question.

“What the fuck do you want, Rick?” He snarled, bracing himself against the hood of the car he was ‘working’ on. He had half a mind to regret his lapse in judgment. This is your boss, shut your fucking mouth, dumbass. The other half of his mind was too clouded to consider the potential consequences of his insubordination.

Rick’s face hardened, but his eyes were shining with what Benji could only assume was pity. What a pain in the ass. I’m fine.

“Go home, kid,” his boss ordered. He sounded like he wanted to tear him a new one, but something was holding him back. His gaze was steady as ever, but his lips were pursed in a frown.

Benji scoffed, but didn’t voice his first thought aloud: What fucking home?

“Give me one reason why,” he said instead, knowing full well the reason he was being told to pack up and leave for the day. Every word he spoke scraped his throat painfully, and the wrench in his hand was so heavy it might as well have been made of lead. He readjusted his grip on it when it started to slip from his sweat-slicked palm.

“I already clocked you out,” Rick replied. His voice was patient despite his employee’s disrespect. “I’ve watched you stand in the same spot for the last twenty minutes doing nothing, lookin’ like you’re two seconds from keeling over. You’re of no use to me right now, so go the fuck home.”

Benji swallowed, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. How dare he call Benji useless? Like any of these other fucking losers are much better, he thought vindictively. Anxiety rolled through his stomach. He thought he’d finally found a person that didn’t consider him worthless. Of course that had been too much to ask for.

“You gonna fire me?” He asked. It came out meeker than he would have liked it to, and he wasn’t sure why he asked in the first place. As if he wanted to know the answer to a question like that.

“I—what? No. Maybe I will if you don’t start listening to me when I tell you to head out. I’m serious. Take the rest of the day off and sleep. You look like you need it and you’re dragging down the crew.”

Benji looked Rick up and down, searching for a hint of dishonesty.

Fine.

--

Something was really wrong with him. He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep in the backseat, but it was dark out now. The chill in his bones ran too deep to simply be attributed to the cool night air leaking into the car. Despite the icy cold chill solidifying in Benji’s veins, his skin was on fire, sweat gathering in every crease and fold of his body. Gravity finally broke the surface tension of a droplet of liquid that had been forming on his sternum. He shivered as it started to trail down his skin, breaking into separate rivulets where it met the divide between two of his jutting ribs.

The shudder ran the full length of his body and jostled his stomach terribly. Fucking A. Because my luck couldn’t get any fucking worse. His digestive system had been unsettled since yesterday; something he chalked up to his horrendously inconsistent diet of late. But this feeling was clear-cut nausea, and he had a sneaking suspicion his fever had something to do with it.

Benji rolled onto his back and stared up at the mystery stained ceiling of his car. Window-filtered light from streetlamps invaded his eyes; he squeezed them shut in response to the ice pick it drove through his brain.

This isn’t so bad, he told himself in a last-ditch effort to convince himself things could be worse. I’d rather be here than back in that fucking prison. Benji didn’t think of the stony jail cells he’d spent nights in when he thought of prison. He thought of a tall black iron gate and a modern, boxy house far too big for anyone to justify owning, filled to the brim with judgmental stares and a perpetually wound up fist. Anything was better than that, right?

An acidic burp gurgled up his chest and he rolled onto his side with a hand on his abdomen, swallowing hard against the burn the gas brought to his throat and sinuses. Hot lava licked at the back of his throat, and he gulped back the pungent taste of vomit that exploded across his tongue, dancing on every tastebud with a different flavor of awful.

“Oh, fuck—” he choked on his words as his belly rolled under his palm. It let out an obnoxious gurgle; a harbinger of things soon to come. Another belch crawled out of his mouth, deep and wet. It trailed off with a chunky noise, and Benji didn’t even realize he was about to retch until his body was already locked up in the midst of it.

Shit, shit—

He shot out a hand, blindly reaching for the door handle. He fumbled to unlock it and wrenched it open as a gag barreled up his throat. The cold air hitting his face stung his eyes and seeped into his skull like a brain freeze. He gripped the edge of the seat and dragged himself over the edge as his body lurched forwards. It was just in time too, for this one was productive.

A spicy trickle of vomit sprayed from his lips, and he moaned against the cramp it left building in the pit of his belly. His shoulders hitched and he belched, pulling himself further over the edge, bracing one hand on the open car door. His next deep gag sent a slurry of orange vomit splattering across the pavement, the first real wave. The taste of half-digested three day old pizza repeated on him and only served to make him puke again.

Benji could feel his sweaty hand slipping from the car door and he tried in vain to sit up. Even if his aching muscles and leaden bones had wanted to cooperate, his stomach was too busy purging itself to grant him the opportunity. His back arched and his shoulders gathered by his ears as he choked on a gulping retch, coughing up everything inside him onto the black asphalt. The glistening puddle of vomit below him seemed to mock him. How much money did it take to eat all this?It seemed to jab at him, you can’t even hold on to this much? Pathetic.

How…how much? Being poor was so expensive, it hurt him to think about how much the vomit on the ground had once been worth. Ten dollars was more than he could afford to just literally cough up. A dry sob chock full of frustration ripped from his chest and he dipped his head towards the ground. You wasted it. Spoiled brat. Ungrateful piece of shit.

It seemed no matter how long he spent away from his parent’s unending criticisms, Benji could never truly escape. A lifetime of echoed sentiments such as these had instilled a similar voice in his head. Despite being of his very own making and not external, the effects it left felt nearly just as real.

Tears of exertion trailed down his cheeks, joining forces with his sweat once the droplets reached his neck. He gagged drily and burped forcefully, bringing up a few sticky strings of stomach acid. A dry heave gripped him so strongly he had to white-knuckle his grip on the car and seat to avoid throwing himself towards the ground. The muscles in his throat strained against the force, and the pressure pulled at the back of his eyeballs until he saw black at the edges of his vision. Shit.

His ears felt stuffed full of cotton, throwing off the balance in his inner ear. He coughed relentlessly, trying to clear his throat of remnants of sick. A thick, sticky glob of mucus worked its way out of his mouth, but he wasn’t even sure if it had come from his lungs or his stomach lining. Every muscle screamed at him to stop moving, but he couldn’t stop gagging.

Water, he thought. I need…water.

He slowly pushed himself back to sit up and clutched his reeling head for a second.

Dimly illuminated by the streetlamps, Benji surveyed the floor of his car for a water bottle. If he had any, it would definitely be here. His eyes frantically flitted back and forth as each sweeping scan of the floor failed to find anything.

Fuck! He slammed his fist against the headrest of the passenger seat, then pulled his fist back and gave it a proper punch. The hard plastic hurt more than he was expecting it to. It felt good.

Benji wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting from a junkyard car worth less than a grand that hardly turned on, but it somehow shocked him when the headrest snapped off and hit the dashboard.

“Damn it!” He screeched, clapping a hand to his mouth when the exertion of yelling made a heave bubble up his throat. A foamy line of bile splashed across his fingers, and he curled into himself with a sharp gasp as one of his knuckles seemed to light on fire. What the fuck? He unfurled himself to look at it. Oh. Shit. He must have cut his knuckle on the plastic when it had snapped, and he’d just unleashed a stream of stomach acid directly into the open, slowly bleeding wound. Just my fucking luck.

He really needed water. When was the last time he’d had anything to drink, anyways? Benji couldn’t even remember. He was about ready to bite the bullet and call Gunner. He didn’t want the help, let alone need it. But it would be nice to have some free water.

What, and let them see you like this? No fucking thanks.

There was a gas station across the street, if he could just—

A horrible gurgle from Benji’s stomach made the organ sink to the floor, and in an instant he became distinctly aware of a growing feeling of fullness in his bowels. An urgent feeling.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he croaked miserably. He fished around in his pocket for his car keys to make sure he wouldn’t lock himself out of the car, because there was no way he could breathe through this. He knew the gas station had a bathroom; he got most of his meals from that store. He just had to make it a few hundred steps.

It was fine. He could do it, no problem. Benji dragged himself back towards the still open door and hardly remembered to sidestep his puddle of vomit while slowly rising to his feet. His intestines rumbled and shifted inside him. Just—hold on.

The pain was everywhere. His guts, his throat, his sinuses, every muscle and every bone, his head, his hand. Benji couldn’t remember the last time his body had betrayed him so badly. Hangovers didn’t compare to this, not by a long shot.

By some miracle though, he made it the gas station. He stumbled through the convenience store doors clutching his stomach. He probably looked a sight, sweating like a pig and reeking of vomit with a dirty, bleeding hand. The bright LED lights drilled into his skull, and he blinked hard to ground himself as much as he could.

The cashier looked up at him flatly, but recognition flashed through their eyes. Benji could only assume he was one of their least favorite regulars. He trudged to the counter and braced himself against it, meeting the guy’s bored stare with his own glower.

“Bathroom key,” he said gruffly, digging his palm further into his churning belly. He was so close, just a few more seconds—

“Paying customers, man,” the guy drawled, sounding stoned. “I don’t wanna clean up your puke either.”

So I really smell that bad, huh?

Benji gripped the edge of the counter with white knuckles and panted. That wasn’t exactly what he was in for, but now that the guy mentioned it…yeah, he could work with this.

He thanked God for the ability to burp on command and forced up a tight, sick-sounding belch into his fist. He looked up at the guy with false panic and held out a hand. “I’m gonna puke on your floor right now,” he said urgently, biting back a hint of a smirk when the cashier scrambled to toss him the key. The guy looked like he was closer to shitting his pants than Benji was.

The puking part had been an act; the mad dash he made to the bathroom definitely wasn’t.

--

Benji must have been stuck in there for half an hour before his body declared itself completely empty. He had nothing left to give. He’d even stopped sweating now despite the fact his skin was still burning to the touch.

He cleaned up his cut and purchased a water bottle and saltine crackers.

$4.72. For fucks sake.

He echoed his displeasure aloud as he scrounged up a five dollar bill from his pocket. All that for a fucking bottle of water and crackers. If he hadn’t gone and gotten sick, he wouldn’t be wasting this money.

The cashier looked at him as he handed him the measly change.

“Feel better, man,” he said earnestly.

…What? Benji drew himself up taller and glared back as he made his way out of the store on shaky legs. As if he needed encouragements from a deadbeat loser like that. Says the guy who lives in his fucking car. He shook away the thought and walked just out of sight of the doors before planting himself down on the curb. He just—he needed a second before he could walk back.

He started slowly on the water. As much as he wanted to chug it, he wanted to make the $1.79 last as long as possible. He wasn’t that down on his luck, but he’d still rather not waste it like he had his few previous meals.

His stomach gurgled harshly at the arrival of the saltine crackers, and Benji dug his forehead into his knees with a bubbly burp. Come ON, he pleaded with his body. Keep it down, keep it down, keep it down­—

His jaw jerked and he rapidly spread his legs out, ducking his head between his knees and belching up a wave of just swallowed crackers and water effortlessly. It fell heavily to the pavement and pale, watery chunks of mushy cracker soaked into the cuffs of his jeans where the vomit splashed back.

This was too much. The mere effort of opening his mouth to puke was suddenly the hardest thing Benji had ever been tasked to do. He couldn’t. More puke filled his cheeks and his lips hardly parted when it spilled out of him. He bent further forwards and grabbed his knees to keep himself from being sick down his own front. He was starting to think he might pass out, and out in the open around these parts was not the place for it to happen.

His stomach protested loudly as he stood up, and a dizzying wave of heat spread through his body like wildfire. He stumbled on the first step and vomited the last of the water and crackers, squeezing the half-empty water bottle so hard that his hand crushed the flimsy plastic. He spit a leftover chunk to the ground and wiped his vomit-coated lips with the hem of his shirt. He’d—he’d take care of it later. Some of the sticky liquid had dribbled down his chin, soaking into his overgrown stubble in a way that was horrifically uncomfortable. This was why he fucking hated facial hair. Ugh. He scrubbed his chin with a clean part of his shirt, but it still felt damp to the touch.

He managed to make it back to the car, but not without a few breaks to bend over and dry heave.

He could handle this. It wasn’t fine, but…he could handle it. As he dragged himself into the backseat of his car, Benji curled around his churning belly and let out a near imperceptible whimper.

I don’t need help.

[dontxnumber]

Characters crying cause they feel so sick/are in to much pain (bonus points for characters that don't cry often and/or usually wouldn't like others knowing they don't feel well)

Meanwhile a really worried caretaker is desperately trying to calm them down. It reaches a point in which caretaker doesn't know what else to do, and sickie's crying is still not dying down. So they're just holding sickie in their lap, pressing their head to their chest, and just begging them to please stop crying, cause listen to their wails is pretty much breaking their heart, and it pains them not knowing how to help, what else to do to get them to stop

Just gonna add that this would work well on a hospital's waiting room

[dontxnumber]

Think about a sickie being so weak and tired they can barely keep themselves awake, constantly drifting in and out of consciousness

Every time they wake up they feel worse. Maybe it started as them just trying to sleep off a small headache, but as times goes on is becomes clear something is really wrong

The first time, they wake up covered in sweat, it feels like their skin is on fire. They're probably running a fever, their whole body hurts. They wonder if a shower would help, they feel gross and clammy. It really does sound nice, but they feel so weak they can't bring themselves to at least try to get up, the ache in their muscles tells them it's not worth the effort

They second time they wake up their throat is dry and feels like it's been rubbed with sandpaper. Some water, or maybe tea would definitely do them some good. A groan scapes their lips just thinking about how far away the kitchen is. They fidget uncomfortably at the feeling of the blankets sticking to their skin, and they can only whimper at the way each breath feels like it's raking over their throat. They feel so bad, soon exhaustion takes over their body as they fall asleep again

They don't manage to sleep much, getting woken up by a cramp not long after. Great, guess their stomach joined the party too. They squirm a bit as they place a hand on their belly, feeling it shift under their fingers

Their stomach makes a loud gurgling sound, and they can't help but whimper as a hiccup makes their whole body jolt. They feel so so sick, they hiccup again, wetter this time, and they feel like there's lava burning at the back of their throat

Sleep doesn't come so easy this time, they spend a long time writhing in bed, alternating between kicking off the covers when the fever makes them feel like they're melting, and pulling them back on not long after, shivering from head to toe, teeth chattering from the cold

Acid reflux is not helping their sore throat at all, and soon they start coughing too. God, they really wish they had a glass of water to somehow calm the painful itch on their throat

The hiccups only help to increase the pain on their upset stomach, curling into a ball and pressing their hand deeper into their belly each time it cramps. Their stomach is killing them, and the heating pad is in their room, only a few steps away, but they're in no condition to get up rn, the thought alone is enough to make them tear up

They don't remember falling asleep, but they wake up feeling more nauseous than they ever felt in their entire life, and so so dizzy, almost like if they were on a boat in the middle of a storm, everything seems to be moving

They curl into a ball seeking both warmth and relief from the pain. They're shivering all over, it seems like they kicked the covers off the bed at some point, so now they just get added to the list of things that would really help them if only they had the strength to reach for them

They get shaken from their thoughts when a wet burp pushes it's way past their lips, and they whimper, pressing their face to the mattress.

They just pray their roommate gets home soon, cause they doubt they'd manage to at least lean over the edge of the bed when they inevitably start puking

They're lucky enough to fall asleep again, scaping from their misery for a while. Or maybe they're not so lucky, the next time they open their eyes they do it mid heave. Hot vomit splashing all over their bed, their clothes, clinging to their face.

Their stomach gurgles loudly, and they feel the back of their throat spasming. They need to get up *now*, their stomach is clearly not done, they need to get to the bathroom, or at least grab a trashcan. There's puke all over their hair, maybe they should aim for the bathroom and take a bath too. Fuck, the bedsheets are covered in vomit, they can't sleep there.

The thought of laying on a puddle of their own vomit is enough to make them gag again, burning liquid rushing up their throat and out of their mouth and nose. They cough and actually try to get up, weakly proping themselves up on shaky arms. Everything seems so sway in front of their eyes and they heave again, loud and violent. The force of it is enough to make them land on the mattress again.

All they manage to do is whimper, as tears start rolling down their cheeks. They feel so sick, their throat is on fire and breathing hurts, their head feels like it's gonna explode, their stomach won't stop cramping and somehow they feel dizzy even though they're laying down. They're sure their fever has gone up, everything hurts so much

Their quiet cries soon turn into desperate sobs as they catch a glimpse of the clock on their nightstand. They have at least a few more hours before their roommate gets home

They manage to roll over so at least they're not lying directly on their vomit, and curled up like that they cry themselves to sleep, hoping that their roommate would be there the next time they wake up

[dontxnumber]

Low level/continuous pain tips for writing

Want to avoid the action movie effect and make your character's injuries have realistic lasting impacts? Have a sick character you're using as hurt/comfort fodder? Everyone has tips for how to write Dramatic Intense Agony, but the smaller human details of lasting or low-level discomfort are rarely written in. Here are a few pain mannerisms I like to use as reference:

General

Continuously gritted teeth (may cause headaches or additional jaw pain over time)

Irritability, increased sensitivity to lights, sounds, etc

Repetitive movements (fidgeting, unable to sit still, slight rocking or other habitual movement to self-soothe)

Soft groaning or whimpering, when pain increases or when others aren't around

Heavier breathing, panting, may be deeper or shallower than normal

Moving less quickly, resistant to unnecessary movement

Itching in the case of healing wounds

Subconsciously hunching around the pain (eg. slumped shoulders or bad posture for gut pain)

Using a hand to steady themself when walking past walls, counters, etc (also applies to illness)

Narration-wise: may not notice the pain was there until it's gone because they got so used to it, or may not realize how bad it was until it gets better

May stop mentioning it outright to other people unless they specifically ask or the pain increases

Limb pain

Subtly leaning on surfaces whenever possible to take weight off foot/leg pain

Rubbing sore spots while thinking or resting

Wincing and switching to using other limb frequently (new/forgettable pain) or developed habit of using non dominant limb for tasks (constant/long term pain)

Propping leg up when sitting to reduce inflammation

Holding arm closer to body/moving it less

Moving differently to avoid bending joints (eg. bending at the waist instead of the knees to pick something up)

Nausea/fever/non-pain discomfort

Many of the same things as above (groaning, leaning, differences in movement)

May avoid sudden movements or turning head for nausea

Urge to press up against cold surfaces for fever

Glazed eyes, fixed stare, may take longer to process words or get their attention

Shivering, shaking, loss of fine motor control

If you have any more details that you personally use to bring characters to life in these situations, I'd love to hear them! I'm always looking for ways to make my guys suffer more write people with more realism :)

[dontxnumber]

thinking about sickie dry heaving.

over a bucket. over the toilet. into a sick bag. into a plastic bag. bent over with their hands on their knees. leaning against a wall.

it doesn't really matter.

thinking about sickie trying to throw up but not being able to. over and over. perhaps they are at the end of a vomit streak and just can't stop. perhaps it's their third time in an hour and they just don't have anything in them anymore.

it doesn't really matter.

thinking about sickie dry heaving.

[dontxnumber]

Me: *gets a new fave*

Me: Great. I want to see him puke 'til he cries.

[dontxnumber]

Probably a dumb question but something I've never really thought about before - could someone, in theory, catch more than one virus at the same time or around the same time and suffer from the symptoms of both at once? Or even a bacterial infection and a viral infection at the same time?

Yes, you can be infected with more than one thing at once, i.e. people have had Covid and the flu at the same time.

[dontxnumber]

Fun facts I learned through my allergies trying to end me✨

If your nose is clogged enough, your ears can and will pop each time you swallow. And for some reason it's also really hard?? Like, things kinda refuse to go down?? And you're also not able to get any air in while your mouth is closed, so needless to say, eating won't be fun

Waking up not being able to get enough air in because of an asthma attack is awfully similar to fever dreams. You feel way too hot and really disoriented, and it may actually take you a while to realize why you woke up

Also, when you're sleeping your breathing is slower/you take in less air. So as you become more aware, your gonna feel more and more like your suffocating cause "you're gonna need more air"

A some point, if you sneeze too hard/way too many times you're gonna start tasting blood on the back of your throat

This isn't even something I'm personally into, but I thought someone might want to use it to torture characters

[dontxnumber]

Will you ever be posting stuff again? I really liked your writing a lot!

I don't know, I may try to post something every once in a while and see how I feel

[dontxnumber]

Why is this blog getting so much attention all of a sudden??

[dontxnumber]

Not gonna delete the blog, but don't expect me to be active anytime soon

[dontxnumber]

A and B are in an extremely formal situation where they are required to stand for long periods of time.

A has been running a pretty nasty fever since the night before, but they both HAVE to be there (think of a social event that will impact their whole career, so they really have no choice but to go).

B can see A struggling to stand. They are pale and sweaty, shaking from head to toe, and B can definitely tell that A is in pain from the way they are subtly shifting their weight from one foot to the other, their posture more and more hunched by the minute.

B slowly moves behind A, and whispers in their ear "It's okay. Lean on me."

A is so relieved that almost bursts into tears. B gasps in shock as A's impossibly hot back meets their chest. The poor thing is truly burning up.

As the event progresses, B can feel A slipping in and out of consciousness against them, so they try very subtly to keep them upright to save appearances.

As soon as the event is over, A turns around and just collapses into B.

B immediately drags them to their car, where they unbutton A's shirt in a desperate attempt to bring down their impossibly high temperature, as they start the car to drive poor unconscious A to the nearest emergency room.

[dontxnumber]

Characters throwing up and being lightheaded is such a good combination 🤔

Like, they're throwing up, their vision tunneling each time they gag, they feel like they might pass out in any minute and they're kind of panicking casue they can't manage to get their body under control long enough to lower themselves to the ground

Especially if they know they're gonna hurt themselves on their way down if they do end up fainting, so they're just desperately trying to stay conscious long enough to move to a safe position