#dry-heaving tw

[exquisitexagony]

continued with @miidnighters (x) -> gore cw, cannibalism cw, blood cw, dismemberment cw, violence cw, horror cw panic cw, dry-heaving cw

They couldn't stop. They just kept going--bashing and ripping and tearing and eating, their clothes drenched in the rich blood, the walls sprayed with it. It seeped into the cracks in the floor, dipped down Arthur's elbows. So much blood.

It wasn't beautiful, it wasn't neat, and it certainly wasn't his usual way of feeding. It was desperate and painful and deliberate. Like he needed them to be dead--more than dead. Gone. Something in his eyes screamed of anger, dread, fear...And that wretched hunger.

He didn't quite stop when she called his name, bashing the guy's head in until the skull split open, the face disfigured, teeth marks covering his cheeks and arms, legs torn from his torso...Tears were streaming down Arthur's face, though they had mixed with so much blood it was impossible to tell. Their weapon finally clattered to the ground, bending over to rip more flesh from the body's throat--tearing, swallowing, spitting, growling, blood gurgling in the back of his own throat. It wasn't until she called them darling that they finally managed to stop.

Out of breath, broken, and dripping with blood, he froze where he was crouched over the body. A piece of flesh hung from his mouth, caught between his teeth. He spit it out almost immediately, blood splattering the ground in front of him and instantly mixing in with the rest of the mess. Turquoise hues landed on the disembodied form in front of him, the horrific display of the elder man's half-eaten insides making his stomach churn. For a moment, he thought he might just puke up his meal, his gag reflex kicking in immediately, but no...Nothing would come up. Bloodied hands grasped against the vinyl flooring, making a sticky wet squelch as his fingertips curved against the puddles of blood, nails pressing into the floor.

"Fuck...Fuck, fuck, fuck...He--He--It was...I-- I saw--I...thought--"

His thoughts wouldn't fit together. He couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. What had just happened? He had practically blacked out and could only remember what had happened when he first arrived at the old man's house. He remembered the plan--and this hadn't been it.

[salembutnotthecat]

Novemetober (Rescheduled) | Day Three

Bad news = bad stomach | Torture (Figuratively speaking) (Alternative Prompt)

@monthofsick

trying my hand at supernatural characters (inherited OCs).

tw for dry heaving, supernatural (not the show) characters, half ghost character (implied partial death? idk how to properly tw that)

if you have questions or want more, feel free to ask!

In the dimly lit study of his Victorian manor, Amancio anxiously awaited Neschume's return.

The old vampire, who had witnessed the passage of time since the Victorian era, had taken it upon himself to train immortals in the ways of harnessing their unique powers. Neschume, his current apprentice, was a curious mix of ghost and human.

As the clock ticked away the minutes, Amancio couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that something was amiss.

The shadows in his study seemed to dance with an unusual tension. Perhaps it was the impending storm outside, and Neschume was nowhere near the manor at the moment. Amancio couldn’t feel him. But there was a deeper instinct gnawing at the edges of his senses.

Neschume had ventured out to acquaint himself with the manor and the surrounding countryside. Amancio trusted the young half-ghost, half-human to navigate the quaint town and its secrets.

However, with each passing moment, the gnawing feeling intensified, and Amancio found himself pacing the study floor.

In the silence, broken only by the distant rumble of thunder, Amancio's acute senses strained to detect any disturbance. A subtle chill filled the air, distinct from the usual atmosphere of the manor.

As he waited, a nagging thought clawed at his consciousness, a realization that his own well-being was entangled with the inexplicable unease.

Neschume's delay only added to the foreboding atmosphere. Amancio, though immortal, felt a rare vulnerability creeping in.

The door to Amancio’s study finally creaked open, Neschume stumbled into the study, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Where have you been wraithling?” Amancio questioned, “The weather is beginning to seem concerning.”

“I lost track of time, Amancio.” Neschume said, “The town and its surroundings are fascinating."

Amancio, his piercing gaze fixed on the half-ghost, half-human apprentice, couldn't shake off the lingering sense of unease.

“Neschume, something feels off. Did you sense anything unusual during your exploration?"

Neschume scratched his head, pondering the question. "No, everything seemed normal to me. Just a typical town, nothing out of the ordinary."

The vampire continued his scrutiny, his instinct urging him to delve deeper. "Are you certain? No peculiar occurrences, disturbances, or even a change in the air?"

Neschume shook his head, but the questioning intensified. Amancio's inquiries became more specific, probing for any anomaly that might explain his unsettling premonition. Yet, as their conversation progressed, a foreign sensation crept over Amancio — a strange churn in his stomach.

Clutching his abdomen, Amancio halted the questioning. Confusion etched across his immortal features as he grappled with the unfamiliar sensation. Nausea, an affliction he hadn't experienced in centuries, now gripped him.

Neschume, sensing his mentor's distress, took a step closer. "Amancio, are you alright?"

Amancio, still grappling with the sensation, managed to utter, "I... I don't know. This is... unfamiliar."

As the vampire struggled with the unexpected onslaught of sickness, Neschume's concern deepened.

There was a sort of panic in Amancio’s eyes. One Neschume truthfully hadn’t seen put of his mentor, ever.

Neschume's concern deepened as he saw Amancio's distress intensify. "Amancio, what can I do to help?"

Amancio, his usually composed demeanor now marred by discomfort, leaned heavily against his desk. "It's... unfamiliar, Neschume. I haven't felt this way in centuries."

Neschume, drawing from his own human experiences, approached Amancio cautiously. "Maybe you need to sit down. Is there something you normally do when you feel like this?"

Amancio, gritting his teeth against the persistent waves of nausea, attempted to reply. "I... I'm not sure. I haven't faced this in so long. It's as if my body has forgotten how to handle it."

As Neschume guided Amancio to a chair, the vampire's attempts to communicate became more labored. Dry heaves convulsed through him, his body betraying its immortality with each involuntary spasm.

Neschume panicked, grabbing a decorative vase on one of the side tables.

The room echoed with the unsettling sounds of a vampire struggling with a human ailment.

Neschume, empathizing with Amancio's distress, knelt beside him. "Breathe, Amancio. Just like humans do when they feel sick. It might help."

Amancio, focusing on Neschume's words, attempted to regulate his breathing. However, the relentless discomfort only escalated.

It was difficult. The whole thing was. After all, Amancio didn’t eat the way humans did. So despite the fact his body was insisting on removing something, there was nothing to be removed.

Neschume, though, was still half human. He still remembered parts of his human life. So, he decided to care of Amancio the way humans cared for one another. Neschume fetched a damp cloth and placed it on Amancio's forehead.

“This usually helps,” Neschume commented.

Amancio, unable to find solace in the usual remedies for human ailments, could only endure the mysterious affliction. The room resonated with a dissonant symphony of Neschume's concerned murmurs and the unsettling echoes of an immortal grappling with a vulnerability he thought long forgotten.

The unsettling dry heaves continued to wrack Amancio's frame, a stark contrast to the regal vampire who had weathered the centuries with unyielding resilience.

Neschume, standing by his side, felt a sense of helplessness as he attempted to soothe his mentor.

"Easy, Amancio. Just breathe through it. It'll pass," Neschume whispered, offering comfort in the absence of any known remedy.

Amancio, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, managed a strained nod. "This is... unprecedented. I never imagined illness would befall me."

Neschume, drawing from his recent bout with sickness, understood the gravity of the situation. "I was sick not long ago, and I think I might have exposed you to it unintentionally."

Amancio's eyes widened in realization, the mystery unraveling before him. "Exposure? But my previous apprentices were fully immortal. Is this the cost of having a half-human apprentice?"

Neschume nodded apologetically. "Apparently so. I didn't mean for this to happen, Amancio. I didn't know I could get you sick. I thought being a vampire would make you immune."

Amancio, grappling with the consequences of his unprecedented vulnerability, managed a faint smile. "It seems we both have much to learn. I never expected my immortal existence to be compromised by a mere illness."

As Neschume continued to offer words of reassurance, the atmosphere in the study shifted.

Despite the persistent dry heaves that wracked his frame, Amancio endeavored to maintain his composure. Each attempt at instruction was punctuated by involuntary spasms, a testament to the peculiar torment that had befallen him.

"This is akin to a form of torture, Neschume," Amancio admitted with a hint of theatricality, though the gravity of his discomfort was undeniable. "To be imprisoned in this cycle of sickness, when immortality should have granted me reprieve from such mortal afflictions."

Neschume, ever the compassionate apprentice, listened attentively, his concern etched across his spectral features. "I'm sorry, Amancio. I never meant for this to happen. Is there anything I can do?"

Amancio, leaning heavily on the desk for support, sighed as he caught his breath "Nothing can be done I figure. Let us just continue your studies, Neschume. Learn what you can from the texts in this study. My affliction should not hinder your progress."

Neschume nodded reluctantly, torn between his desire to help and the realization that Amancio was right.

Neschume, seeing Amancio seem startled, a type of startle that seemed to forewarn another spell of dry heaving, attempted to negotiate with his mentor.

“Amancio, please. If you at least rest in bed, I'll delve into one of those afterlife tomes you've been pestering me to study.” Neschume said, “I'll endure the boredom of studying for you."

Amancio relented. "Very well, Neschume. If it eases you and ensures I have your eyes on these pages, I'll retire to bed."

With cautious steps, Amancio made his way to the bedroom, Neschume trailing close behind. The room, adorned with ancient tapestries and eerie artifacts, now became an unexpected sanctuary for the ailing vampire.

As Amancio lay in bed, the symptoms of the mysterious illness escalated. Feverish chills wracked his immortal frame, and a persistent ache settled in his bones.

Neschume, true to his word, reluctantly immersed himself in the afterlife tome. The dim light of the room cast a pallor over the pages, and the quiet rustle of parchment blended with the unsettling sounds of Amancio's discomfort. Neschume found himself occasionally looking over the pages toward the vampire who also had grabbed a tome of his own, presumably to try and find some remedy for his suspicious ailment.

Amancio's pallid complexion contrasted sharply with the darkened room, his usual regal demeanor now replaced by the vulnerability of a creature not accustomed to illness.

Despite Neschume's aversion to studying, the weight of responsibility and compassion drove him to continue, each turn of the tome's pages a testament to the uneasy alliance between mentor and apprentice in the face of unforeseen challenges.

As Amancio continued to endure the relentless symptoms of the mysterious illness, Neschume delved into the afterlife tome, searching for distraction amidst the arcane knowledge.

In his reading, Neschume stumbled upon an account of a wraithling – a creature similar to himself. A creature that was… him.

"Hey, Amancio, listen to this. It's about a wraithling, like me."

Amancio, despite his physical distress, perked up with interest. "There’s an account of one of you?"

Neschume began to read aloud, his voice a gentle distraction from Amancio's discomfort. "The wraithling, a hybrid of ethereal and mortal essence, is said to be a bridge between realms. They navigate the unseen world with an insatiable curiosity, seeking knowledge beyond the grasp of both ghosts and humans."

Amancio nodded. "Fascinating. Lost between the realms, untethered yet filled with a unique energy. Just like you were.”

“It says here that wraithlings are hard to come by,” Neschume's eyes widened with curiosity. "How did you find me, Amancio?"

Amancio, a faint smile on his pallid face, recounted the tale. "I sensed an unusual disturbance, a convergence of energies. It led me to a forsaken corner where the veil between our worlds thinned, and there you were, a wraithling caught in the delicate dance of existence."

Neschume, still engrossed in the tome, found solace in the shared narrative. Amancio, momentarily freed from the weight of his illness, continued to reminisce about that fateful encounter that had bound mentor and apprentice across the realms.

“How did you sense that though?” Neschume asked.

"In the depths of my meditation, where the veils between the realms grew thin for myself, I sensed a disturbance. I felt something unusual caught in the In-Between. Something that felt tangled up, unintentionally tethered and being pulled in opposing directions."

Neschume listened intently, absorbing the tale that had brought him under Amancio's wing. "You could have left me there, but you chose to rescue me. Why?"

Amancio's eyes, clouded with the memory, met Neschume's gaze. "I saw potential in you, Neschume. Despite your spectral nature, there was a unique energy, an untamed curiosity that set you apart. Little did I know, you hailed from a family of supernatural hunters."

Neschume's expression darkened, a reflection of his complicated past. "Yes, my family... they were hunters. They would look for people like… well…”

“Like myself?” Amancio questioned, offering a fanged half smile toward his apprentice.

Neschume nodded, “I was with them on a hunt when things went wrong."

Amancio, despite his weakened state, leaned in with empathy. "Caught in the crossfire of your family's pursuit, you found yourself trapped between the realms. A wraithling born of unexpected circumstances."

Neschume nodded, the weight of his family's legacy evident in his haunted eyes. "They were relentless in their pursuit of the supernatural. I was different, and that made me an anomaly, an outcast even among my own kind."

Amancio, a silent understanding passing between them, continued the narrative. "In that moment, as I reached out to the veil and pulled you from the clutches of The In-Between, I saw the potential for something different. A chance for you to forge a path beyond the shadows of your family's legacy."

“I appreciate you doing that,” Neschume said, “As well as training me.”

“Of course, wraithling,” Amancio said, “I enjoy being a mentor. It makes my immortal existence much less lonely.”

There was silence then. Amancio seemed worn out, and Neschume didn’t want to bother him. Neschume returned to his tome, still occasionally lifting his eyes to check on Amancio.

In time, Amancio was struck by another wave of dry heaves, finding himself succumbing once more to the agonizing torment.

Neschume, now armed with the knowledge of their shared past, was no longer just an apprentice; he was a companion determined to provide comfort.

Neschume knew that Amancio couldn’t exactly throw anything up, but it didnt stop him from gathering Amancio’s wavy hair, pulling it back away from the vampire’s face.

As the heaves tapered off, Neschume sighed, “Is there anything I can get you?"

Amancio, caught between moments of reprieve and torment, shook his head. He didn’t know, he couldn’t find anything in the ancient texts.

Neschume once more fetched a cool cloth and gently wiped Amancio's forehead, offering a small but tangible comfort. "You cared enough to rescue me from The In-Between, Amancio. Now it's my turn to be here for you."

Amancio, despite the pain etched across his immortal features, felt a warmth in the gesture. The room, steeped in shadows and the echoes of their intertwined pasts, now bore witness to the evolving dynamics between mentor and apprentice.

As Neschume continued to offer comfort, the weight of Amancio's vulnerability became a shared burden.

In the quietude of the room after the spell had passed, amidst the lingering scent of ancient tomes and the dissonance of suffering, Amancio and Neschume found solace in the unspoken bond that transcended the boundaries of their supernatural existence.

[justanillvampire]

Dry heaving, shaking, only 5 1/2 hrs left.

[punishprose]

it seems that i can only write when im unhappy. unsatisfied. the second i get busy it's like my mind takes a day off from being able to form sentences. or maybe it's just that my tears are the gateway to my soul; that and the snot on my fingers and knees coagulate to form words, sentences, paragraphs. i vomit into the toilet and the poems come out fully formed - disgusting and hideous like babies writhing in childbirth. but when i have nothing in my stomach, what then? nothing but dry heaving, sentences coming out disjointed, stilted. words never the exact ones i was searching for. writing when not unhappy feels fraudulent, fake. like im acting, pretending to be something im not. i want to be able to write without having to be sad.

[pinkseas]

my manager is WAY too fucking nice to me im gonna explode

[biboybuckley]

me crying. (tw throwing up)

i’ve been throwing up for the last three and a half hours. there is NOTHING LEFT MF. STOP TRYING TO THROW UP. NOTHING IS GONNA COME UP. LET ME DRINK WATER.

[vampiremansionpoolboy-moved]

yo mr white i am going to throw up

[gayopinion]

i think i have some kind of vomiting disorder cause i'm just chilling after waking up and my body's like SINK. NOW

cyclic vomiting syndrome is my best guess which is basically just "throws up unexplainably disorder" anyways but idk what causes it..... maybe weed? sometimes i cough too hard and start dry heaving but holy shit i cannot be doing that at the function. i actually gave up alcohol (not "sober" so i still occasionally indulge) back in like march because i took ONE shot at someone's house and threw up all over their bathroom (which i cleaned and sanitized alone and the owner was super understanding) but that was enough for me to be like um clearly this is something i can't engage in easily and reasonably.

also you know who should actually not be allowed to drink? runners. most god awful people on the planet to drink with. my ex roommate LOVED literally just getting up and running away after we'd all been drinking, it was the saddest excuse for wanting to be chased ever, fuck off. i should've seen that insecurity red flag from a mile away.

ok post over

[spottyissleepwalking]

Idk if this is like… a POTS thing. Or an autism thing. Or,, smth.

But does the smell of popcorn make anybody else just. Violently fucking nauseous?

I love popcorn, it’s my favorite mindless snack, I eat it all the time. But the smell of it fresh from the microwave is horrendous. And stars forbid it’s been burnt to any degree; I’ll gag

[ratscabies]

since getting covid last september I've had a really severe post nasal drip that won't go away and I become hyperaware of phlegm in my throat and it makes me gag so hard that I vomit and this happens like at least three or four times a week (and I dry heave bc of it more often than that) and honestly I feel like I'm going insane!!

[voiceshearingyouloud]

Would really love it if now that my brain is behaving more my body would get the memo too

[thebumblingbee]

Okay currently having my first menstrual cycle in 10 years and I am unwell

[rebellum]

Low key hate my brother rn

Like.. hmm... who should deal with these two dead animals...

The person who doesn't form strong attachments to animals, to the point where he puts dead animals into his body?

Or the person who forms such strong attachments to animals that they have an entire lifestyle that is influenced by the deep respect and love they have for all animals?

The answer of who had to deal with disposing of two bodies may surprise you!

[thethingything]

I'm really torn over how to feel about a bunch of stuff. on the one hand the oral surgeon was really friendly and is the only medical professional who's ever said "so what type of EDS do you have?" because he wanted to check how it'd impact some stuff, meanwhile we usually have to explain what EDS even is. he seemed pretty familiar with it and also checked what meds we're okay with and said the reaction we had to clarithromycin recently is why it's not typically prescribed for adults anymore. all that stuff made me feel pretty confident about things going alright.

and then sedation and general anaesthetic got brought up, and medical bills got brought up, and we had a panic attack and took multiple attempts to try and ask one question because we couldn't phrase it in a way that made sense, and then we asked some other stuff and ended up panicking even more and just sitting there crying and he made a comment that I think was meant to be reassuring but mostly just made it seem like he really doesn't get what we're so freaked out about, and now our brain has gone from "I'm mostly just deeply uncomfortable with the concept of sedation" to "I absolutely do not want to be uncoscious around medical professionals at all" and I do not fucking know what to do about this.

I keep trying to distract myself. our brain keeps bringing this shit up again regardless and then I have a panic attack on the spot. I've lost track of both how many panic attacks I've had today, and how many times I've almost thrown up, but both thing happened several times in the car and then happened again while we were getting showered.

I already wasn't sure how the fuck we're going to handle this, but now I feel significantly worse about it because I've mostly just gotten confirmation that the stuff I find most distressing about the situation is not only unavoidable, but also definitely going to be worse than I'd registered until now

[psychoticwillgraham]

overdid the caffeine again and actually puked this time :)) now my head fucking hurts and I can’t stop shaking. fucking hate this shit (it says as this is literally its fault for continuing to drink caffeine).

[dr-liara-tsoni]

At this point, periods make me actively suicidal.

I need my hysterectomy.