#tw vomit

[ask-the-rag-dolly]

Y'know what? Screw this.

*Grabs Ragatha by the arm and kicks the emergency door open*, if you want to do this one thing, you have confront whatever's bothering you!

-J

[ ann - @the-candy-hearted-dolly ]

[electrozeistyking]

I may have struck my funny bone a bit too hard with this one, chat. (best viewed unmuted)

[periwinkleowski]

ahem

puke puke puke puke puke puke puke puke puke puke puke puke puke puke puke puke puke puke puke puke puke puke puke puke puke vomit vomit vomit vomit vomit vomit

(=^･ω･^=) that is all.

ahh shoot omgeefuck u said like. . all of my favorite wordsa nd this appearss on my canvas..

[basofy]

but that's sad

[w3ird0s-0rgans]

The sneak peak snippet of the video I'm making with the 'puppets'

(I'm playing out a ao3 fic for the fun of it)

(Sorry if my voice is goofy or slurred I have speech problems)

[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

[pixlokita]

Page 37 🐻✨

Previous - next - first

[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.

[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 only 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 got 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 to 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.

[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.

[usernyoom]

laundry list of lusail track's sins:

the FIA changes track limits on turns 12/13 by around 80 cm to try limit damage to tyres (this leads to the addition of an extra 10 minute practice session directly before qualifying for the sprint race. on a weekend with only 1 hour of free practice anyway)

the FIA implements limit of a maximum of 18 laps on any 1 set of tyres due to the curbs & track surface literally shaking the tyres to the point of structural damage (this leads to a minimum of 3 pitstops for all drivers during the race)

nico rosberg reports that pirelli informed the FIA of possible tyre issues in Qatar and the warning was reportedly ignored (he revealed this live on Sky F1)

george russel opens his visor during pitstops to try get some air onto his face

both george russel and lando norris are recorded fanning themselves and steering with their wrists at 300 km/hr down the main straight due to heat

george russel reports after the race that he felt as though he was going to pass out multiple times. he felt as though he was in a sauna from around lap 20, except he had no way to escape the heat as someone in a sauna can

logan sargeant retired due to feeling ill, likely exacerbated due to the heat. he was carried out of the garage by his mechanics

max verstappen and oscar piastri are both unable to remain standing in the cool down room after finishing ("does anyone have a wheelchair?")

alex albon has to be helped out of his car after finishing the race

alex albon was then taken to the medical centre and treated for acute heat exposure

fernando alonso asks for water to be poured on him during a pit stop as his 'seat is burning' him

fernando alonso then reports after the race that he has a legitimate burn on the left side of his ass due to the heat

esteban ocon reports beginning throwing up in his helmet on lap 15, and this then continuing for two laps (and does so only at the end of the race)

lance stroll is taken in an ambulance for medical attention after finishing the race

lance stroll then says that he ended up with so many track limits infringements within the last five laps because of the fact that he could no longer see the white line due to how often he was passing out in high speed corners

valtteri bottas described the race as "torture" after finishing

yuki tsunoda reports that he opened his visor to try to cool down his face and instead of air, sand flew in

charles leclerc says he saw many drivers appearing seriously unwell in parc ferme after the race

charles leclerc also describes the race as being "twice as bad as singapore"

nico hulkenberg left the media pen after only two questions as he desperately needed to cool down

lando norris reports that 2 or 3 drivers took themselves to the medical centre because of dehydration concerns. several fainted once inside

jack doohan says that the lack of action and radio messages during the race is likely due to the lapses in cognition from severe dehydration due to heat

[ask-the-rag-dolly]

Ragatha! Are you okay?!

-Broken Robotic Anon 🤖

[moider-time]

Y'know what I want? I want sick Bruce Wayne.

I want a Bruce that babies his kids when they're sick. He goes all out. 6'4 muscle-bound Jason Todd is getting tucked into bed with a kiss on the forehead to check his temperature and whines if Bruce forgets.

As good as his memory is, Bruce can't exactly remember what Thomas and Martha used to do when he was sick. They had a routine but the intricacies of it constantly escape him. As little as that may be, it does pang every now and again that he's forgetting them, forgetting how they loved him. He doesn't want that for any of his kids.

So he babies them, treats them like the little kids he knows they aren't and rarely if ever got to be. He deals with any vomit, tears or just general irritation that comes with being sick. It gets to point where when the kids are sick and Bruce isn't home, they can barely function.

Dick: THIS IS IT- THIS IS THE END

Wally: dude you just have a cold?

Dick: JUST A- JUST A COLD?!? WALLY, ARE YOU INSANE?? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO MANAGE WITHOUT MY HOT CHOCOLATE AND HOME MADE BUNNY MARSHMALLOWS??!?

Wally: ok one, bunny marshmallows? adorable. and two, i've seen you walk off a fractured collarbone, two bruised ribs and a twisted ankle???

Dick: ....yeah but the marshmallows

Wally:

But Bruce? Oh when Bruce is sick, he powers through. But when he's so sick he considers himself a liability, he curls up in a small, dark room like a pregnant cat. It's practically instinct for him – when he's compromised like that, he needs to be in a place that he's knows is safe.

Very Sick Bruce also goes into Mama Bear Mode. He wants his kids in his sight at all times or he's practically inconsolable. If they're not with him, then they might be in danger, anything could happen – how can he protect them if they're not there? Just anxiety out of the wazoo.

I can see him trying to drag his 7 kids into one room so he can keep an eye on his babies.

Damian: baba we cannot all possibly fit-

Cass: -we will

Damian:

Damian: who's going first?

The kids do make things more comfortable. Fluffing his pillows, getting him tea and making sure he has his stuffies. Bruce appreciates it but he just says that all he needs are his kids. That always has them sobbing.

(happy holidays to my cold twin @bruciemilf i was inspired by our mutual sickness lol)

[worldsewage]

This thing is very so nauseating it makes me start weeping when I see it

[megamyceted]

THE LORDS & MOTHER MIRANDA pachislot BIOHAZARD village, 2023

[moonstruckme]

HI omg I’m in love with you and your writing and your sweet demeanor- you’re amazing!! I have a request for emt!marauders in an established relationship - with reader who is terrified of throwing up and emetophobic? Thank you!!!!

Thanks lovely <3

cw: emetophobia, mention of vomit (no description), reader has hair long enough to pull back

modern au

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 679 words

“Dove.” There’s exhaustion in Remus’ voice, and you feel wretched for putting it there. “You’re going to feel so much better if you just get it out of your system, sweet girl.” 

“I’m fine,” you mumble, but you have to swallow after the words. The muscles in your abdomen spasm punishingly. 

“You’re not,” Sirius insists. He’s been alternatively soft and stern with you, a vacillation you know stems from worry and so you’re trying not to hold it against him. Still, Remus sets a pacifying hand on his shoulder when some of your hurt shows on your face. 

You know you’re being difficult. You’d all gone out for dinner the night before, to a nice place, and all gotten the same pasta on the server’s recommendation. It was really spectacularly good. You’re not loving it so much now, though, when you can taste it in the back of your throat, vying for exit. 

Each of the boys had thrown it up in the early morning, and you’d spent the night on the couch, the worst girlfriend in the world, listening to ocean sounds through noise-canceling headphones and trying not to think about what was happening in the bathroom. 

Now you’re still lying curled up on the couch, taking sips of coke through a straw with a tiny electric fan set up on the coffee table to blow cool air in your face. James has wormed his way underneath you so your torso is laid across his lap, one of his hands pressed protectively over the aching part of your belly, and Sirius is perched on the coffee table while Remus watches you from the armchair. 

“Baby,” Sirius tries again, “Remus is right. This sort of food poisoning doesn’t go away on its own. You won’t feel better until you let it out.” 

You make a half-suppressed whimpering sound, and James coos, rubbing your stomach. “I know,” you admit. “I just—” Mortifyingly, tears invade your vision. You press your face into the couch, but not before you see Sirius’ brow crease with sympathy. “—really don’t want to.” 

“We know, honey.” James kneads skillfully at your abdomen, working out the tight muscles. “I get that it’s really hard for you, and you’re scared, but when it’s over it’s over. You only have to do it once.” 

You nod, and hot tears clump in your lashes. You don’t trust yourself to speak anymore. You hear the bucket they’d brought into the living room for you being moved closer, but you ignore the sound. 

“You’re alright,” Remus says, voice low and sure. “You’re going to be just fine. Just let it happen, and then you don’t have to do anything else. We can all relax for the rest of the day, yeah?” 

James’ fingers press gently into your stomach, and your gasp turns into a hiccup. You lean over the bucket with a whine, and Sirius grabs your hair while James murmurs apologies and assurances one after the other. 

“There we go.” Sirius holds your hair in one hand and rubs between your shoulder blades with the other, his touch cool on your hot skin. “Good girl, let it out.” 

When you’re done Remus brings you straight to the bathroom to brush your teeth, and they all oblige you when you want to change into new pajamas regardless of your current ones being perfectly clean. 

“You’re all done.” James takes your still shaky hands once you’re feeling fresh and clean, pulling you back onto the couch and mashing a kiss onto your temple. “Proud of you, sweetheart.” 

You harumph, but cuddle up to him. It is nice to be rid of the nausea, and the clamminess of your skin was something you didn’t realize had become so oppressive until it was gone. 

“I hope you’re willing to put as much energy into snuggling as you did into making me sick,” you tell him. 

Remus pokes you with his foot for being mean, but James does look a bit sheepish as he tugs a blanket around the both of you. “Oh, absolutely. Triple that.”