Our brains are sick but that's okay

Hi I'm Max! This is just an emeto blog for my OCs. Masterlist I would love some requests, or even random questions if you want to chat! 18+ please!

[secretobsessionstuff]

Masterlist

The closer a fic is to the top, the longer ago I wrote it. If you're new here, pick a fic near the bottom for both our sakes lol.

Madix

Riley

Dakota

Blair

Micah

Alexi

Mateo

Shawn

Jory

Dev

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Sickfic Drabbles: One shots with random OCs in no particular order

King + Consort (No Emeto + NSFW/Indigestion)

King + Physician (No Emeto/Cold)

The Vomiting Center (Emeto/Food Poisoning)

[spuddy-potat]

thinking of a character having to travel whlle sick

maybe theyve got a fever while riding a train and every little bump and sway of the vehicle sends their head spinning

they have to carry around heavy luggage with aching arms and stand in an uncomfortably crowded space while they wait in line to get their bags checked

maybe theyre horribly nauseous and struggling to maintain composure to avoid embarrassing themself as they get airsick near an anxious passenger

pressing their too-warm face against the cold glass of a window only to be met with the incessant vibrations that only worsen their headache

maybe sniffling/sneezing and coughing loudly, drawing the annoyed attention of other passengers and sheepishly ducking their head in shame, neck burning against the scrutiny

racked with chills and pulling their coat tighter around themself as they stifle a shiver, set off by every small breeze that may make its way through the open bus windows

traveling is already a hassle, why not make it just that slightest bit more unbearable by giving your character a pesky cold?

[spuddy-potat]

oh and how could i forget a character with a bad cough that gets aggravated on a bumpy carriage ride? (been rereading the count of amaranth moor lately and im obsessed lmao)

[spuddy-potat]

thinking of a character having to travel whlle sick

maybe theyve got a fever while riding a train and every little bump and sway of the vehicle sends their head spinning

they have to carry around heavy luggage with aching arms and stand in an uncomfortably crowded space while they wait in line to get their bags checked

maybe theyre horribly nauseous and struggling to maintain composure to avoid embarrassing themself as they get airsick near an anxious passenger

pressing their too-warm face against the cold glass of a window only to be met with the incessant vibrations that only worsen their headache

maybe sniffling/sneezing and coughing loudly, drawing the annoyed attention of other passengers and sheepishly ducking their head in shame, neck burning against the scrutiny

racked with chills and pulling their coat tighter around themself as they stifle a shiver, set off by every small breeze that may make its way through the open bus windows

traveling is already a hassle, why not make it just that slightest bit more unbearable by giving your character a pesky cold?

[spuddy-potat]

oh and how could i forget a character with a bad cough that gets aggravated on a bumpy carriage ride? (been rereading the count of amaranth moor lately and im obsessed lmao)

[writing-whump]

Too many strawberries

Noah overeats on tiramisu and strawberries. Graphic nausea and emeto.

Noah was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to be here.

Not just in Edmond's apartment, but currently occupying his bathroom while his stomach rebelled in a way he had never experienced before.

To be fair, his contracted human—hunter—had been injured and then they had a visitor and then Noah just accidently ended up chatting with the girl.

Obviously a significant girl, cause Adalyn could sense his presence from Edmond's bond without Noah needing to appear.

It felt very satisfying to be called by the new name. Names came with contracts, always specific to the spirit hunter and created an entirely new identity for the demon in question.

Noah hadn't had yet many opportunities to experience this new him.

And then Adalyn came again, to check on Edmond and said they were experiment with strawberry tiramisu and left some for him on the counter.

Strawberry tiramisu. What an amazing invention.

Demons didn't need to eat, but it sure as hell tasted good. Made Noah feel so much more real, to touch, smell and taste things...to eat them.

When he ate the first serving and Edmond slept the entire day and Adalyn barely made him eat crackers, Noah decided the tiramisu would go to waste without him.

So he rescued the portion left in the fridge. Entirely innocently and with good intentions.

Adalyn must have noticed, cause she gave him a satisfied smirk "that good?"...and brought him another.

With a huge bowl of fresh strawberries, cause apparently they bought too much and ran out of boxes to do them in.

Noah wasn't hungry. He was just bored and lonely and pretty sure once Edmond woke, he would make him disappear and never get access to strawberries again.

So he ate the box of tiramisu. With renewed urgency, since Edmond went to the bathroom by himself and generally showed more signs of life. Still collapsed back in bed, complaining about being dizzy, but he slept easier and gagged a lot less and his balanced was much better...

And Noah just wanted to enjoy the strawberries, was that so wrong?

He basically inhaled the huge box of tiramisu that had at least 6 servings in it...then hid himself on the balcony and snacked on the strawberries with cream and sugar.

It was delicious. An onslaught of sweetness and greatness, his fingers red from the juice.

Noah wasn't a demon of greed, but damn was this good.

For a good hour afterwards he just sat in the chair he stole from the kitchen, enjoying the breeze at the balcony and the pleasant fullness. Feeling seated had something in it, like he was complete and physical and present in the sunlight and the world in the best way possible.

Noah only noticed later, when he tried to straighten up, how huge his stomach got. It was bloated to the point it was pushing against his ribs. A weight settled on his chest, making it hard to breathe.

The sight made him self-conscious, so he got up to hide the evidence. His belly felt heavy, rolling with the movement and making him stumble.

Liquidy sugar swirl of strawberries gurgled loudly, so he hurried up inside in case someone would hear.

Getting the empty plasitc box into the trashcan was all he managed. Feeling impossibly tired, he crashed on the couch, mesmerised by the sheer size of his middle.

He had neevr experienced such bloating. His skin was tout and his stonach didn't feel like his own. Like a balloon someone filled inside him, it stretched as its own entity inside his body.

It was interesting for about 15 minutes. Then it got more gurgly and he felt so stuffed it was hard to catch his breath. The pressure built up he thought he was going to pop...and came out as a burp.

Huh. That actually helped. He massaged his tummy, first gently and then with more urgency, to get the feeling out.

A string of burps came up, relieving some of the air. For a couple of minutes, Noah felt content again. Close to sleep. This wasn't so bad.

Then the cramps started.

Pain right from the naval, coming in short waves, down below. The waves got longer the more he sat there.

He tried to burp again, but the air smelled sweet and sticky and made his throat feel all slimy.

His belly jumped up scarily, some of the slimy strawberry jam sliding up his throat.

Noah barely managed to gulp, sending the offending wave down. It tasted worse than before, all bitter and revolting and he shook with disgust.

Another burp made him jump, sweat and goosebumps covering hin head to toe.

Damn it, what did he do? Was it really so much?

His stomach didn't seem any smaller. If anything the fullness seemed to spred, his upper stonach filled with air while his lower belly filled with what felt like streams of water.

The room felt too hot and his shirt too tight. He couldn't breathe, a claustrophobic feeling overwhelming him. Like his own body was suffocating him.

And it hurt. The cramps got longer and more intense, making his whole middle spasm. A pain like being hit in the stomach, but repeatedly and from the inside.

He had seen that before, even felt it, but never from food. So Noah did the only reasonable thing — headed for the bathroom.

The small and cold space where he could safely lock himself in comforted him. His belly was making all sorts of upset, blabbering noises. His face felt hot, like he was turning to steam.

He curled up by the toilet, his belly not letting him straighten his back or sit against the wall.

Now he only dared to burp towards the toilet, afraid the slime would surge up into the world again.

But he couldn't exactly stop the air either. When he tried, his body hiccuped against his control, making the cramps worse.

It squeezed him so tight his eyes watered.

A different feeling hit him then. Everything stilled for a moment, as if it had been decided. Like something inevitable.

Then his belly spammed and cramped so hard he arched underneath it, moaning from the pain as thick, red mush shot out from his throat.

It coated the inside of the toilet, and Noah didn't even get a chance to breathe before the next wave came.

His stomach was squeezing and squeezing, death set to evaluate all its contents. Noah heaved once more, vomiting the third time, bits cream and white adding to the red mess.

He hit the flush bottom, not able to look at that disgusting sight. The cramps eased a little, but still there, pushing into the other direction now.

He belched emptily against the water, head buried so deep inside the toilet from fear of another wave. Nothing came up, just sticky red saliva.

Revulsion felt like a snake, sliding along his teeth and inside his throat. He gagged repeatedly over the toilet at the sensation, his stomach rolling and bubbling inside him.

He was exhausted and breathless and his upper stomach hurt from the strain. His throat burned. The fullness feeling felt sickly and too heavy and he just wanted it to stop.

The pressure and pain moved entirely down to his lower belly. It felt tight and painful, like he couldn't move an inch, locked in that position. Like a brick that stopped inside him, too big to move forward.

Noah groaned, bracing against the toilet for support, when he suddenly understood which was his belly wanted to push.

...

"You poisoned my demon?" Edmond said, eyes wide and way too amused.

Adalyn rolled her eyes. "I brought him a cake and strawberries. He overeate on them all on his own."

"Who knows, maybe your demon meant to poison you and ended up hurting mine-"

"Shut up." Adalyn punched Edmond on the arm. They were in his bed, where Edmond managed to sit upright without falling or feeling like he was going to hurt.

His head was still off, as if someone was holding it in vice metal grip, but he felt a bit stronger and more aware.

Adalyn sat beside him, nonchalant, as if their proximity did nothing to her insides.

Apparently, it did not.

"Did you talk to him?" she asked curiously.

"No. Didn't even know he was here." Edmond threw her a nasty look. "Stop encouraging him to appear, wohld you?"

"I'm just saying you should work on your partnership bond." Her eyes narrowed. "He could have helped you with the injury, if you let him."

"He would have. Doesn't mean I would be okay with it."

"Then start getting to it, cause this is stupid. And inefficient, in your world."

He glared at her and she giggled, not a bit terrified by his most scary, viscious expression.

If anything, she was more excited for getting to him.

He sighed tiredly. "When is the bathroom gonna be free? I need a shower."

"Not anytime soon. Noah has been in there for the last hour and from the sounds, I wouldn't say he is finished."

"Why would you listen to-"

"Just the groans and moans," Adalyn waved her hand. "I asked him if he wanted anything, but he just whined and put the faucet on. What a cutie."

Edmond shook his head at the ridiculous word. "He is a demon. More stupid than anything else."

"My dessert was perfect then," she smiled victoriously, "if it made him so greedy. Shame on you for not trying it out."

[secretobsessionstuff]

I haven't written for these guys in quite a while. But gosh I will love them til the day I die.

---------

Madix’s stomach tried its hardest to digest the sludge of food that he had forced down his throat all that day. It wasn’t his fault—the nachos had such bubbly warm cheese that called his name, and the burger had caramelized onions that begged him to approach. Now all the grease and sugar coated his gut in a layer of grime. His tummy burbled sickeningly as it attempted to deal with the overwhelm that a day at the fair had caused.  

He staggered next to Dakota who seemed to be dealing with the food expertly. He had been a fool to think that he could keep up with his best friend. The man was a pro at putting away every dish they came across. 

Poutine, easy. Ice cream, no problem. He simply sighed contently after every bite that got Madix feeling more and more like a zombie. 

It was a struggle to pick up his feet, but he had to keep up, or else Riley and Blair would run off into the crowd, never to be seen again with their significant others. 

At least Dakota hung back with him, even if it was because he kept getting distracted by the food vendors and not because he noticed Madix’s deteriorated state. He jumped excitedly in line for a beaver tail. 

Madix swallowed thickly as he came to stand next to his friend. The Canadian treat gave off the sickly-sweet aroma of syrups and cheesecake. The people around them carried their oversized pastries that dripped with thick white frosting or a drizzling of rich chocolate. 

“I think I want the brownie one!” he said, pointing to the sign ahead. “It has Nutella on it! Do you want to split it with me?” 

Madix moaned and jammed his head into Dakota’s shoulder. “…. Ugh.” 

“Okay fine, jeez? How about the strawberry cheesecake?”

"Noooo..."

He gave his arm a jerk. “Why you sound so mopey, Maddy?” 

“Too much food…” he slurred out. His chest hitched with a hiccup. The nausea made all his muscles stiff. “I don’t feel good. How can you still be hungry?” 

“Classic mistake.” Dakota pulled his greenish friend into a side hug. “We’ve moved beyond our primitive needs. Hunger has nothing to do with it anymore. It’s all about the experience.” 

“Oh, I think I’m in for a doozy of an “experience” any minute now.” 

Dakota chuckled at first, but then quickly wondered how much Madix was joking. The boy next to him swayed with fatigue. His eyelids were droopy as if his full stomach were weighing every part of him down. Personally, he felt only the beginnings of fullness, but Madix was nearing the end of his limits it seemed. 

He took off his sunglasses, only then realizing how quickly the sun had set. The sky was now purple and pink, and Madix’s cheeks were grey. “You do look pale, buddy. Maybe take a break from the rides and food.” 

“Yeah, I think I have to. I’d like to sit down as well, but I don’t want to lose Riley and Blair.” 

Dakota waved this away. “I’ll text Blair that we stopped for a break. Look, we can sit under that tree, there’s a bench.” 

Dakota ate his pastry happily while next to him Madix wondered what was going on with his belly. He was full, but this level of nausea was intense. If he were at home, he’d most likely be on the bathroom floor by now. Here, he was not sure how far a walk the nearest bathroom was. Instead, he would focus on keeping the food down until he had time to digest. 

Dakota was not helping with the way he devoured the chocolate mess of dough and oil.  

“Ugh, Kota. I want to go home. I think I may actually throw up, but there’s a lot of people here.” He hugged his belly.

“You feel that bad?” The sudden development surprised him. “I’ve seen you eat way more."

“I don’t know why…” Madix burped and let out a nauseous moan. “I just feel really fucking sick.” He glanced at his friend with his glassy eyes. “Would you hurry up and eat that already. It’s dripping onto your hand.” 

Dakota licked the precarious drop of icing. “It’s messy, I’m sorry.” After three huge bites and finger licking, he finished the treat in time to see Madix shudder and gag. 

Madix suddenly stood up on shaky legs. This was bad. He could feel pressure growing in his throat. Rising. 

“Oh God, I can’t keep it down.” He tried to speak through the nausea and the hand that covered his mouth. “One second.” He wandered away from the main road, away from the bench where they sat, and beyond the fenced in grass. 

Dakota quickly followed his swaying friend. 

“Oookay, I guess we’re going on a little excursion.” He grimaced at the retch that tore up Madix’s throat. He grabbed his friend’s arm to steady him. “This is a good spot to let loose, Maddy. I’ve got you.” 

A shower of vomit came gushing from Madix’s mouth. It was orange and frothy. His poor belly squeezed in on itself tighter. Another mouthful of greasy mush added to the puddle at his feet. He felt the muscles in his back tense continuously as the heaves sent him forward. 

A groan of misery escaped him. 

Dakota kept a firm grip on his woozy friend. It was odd to see him so weak. Every gag pushed him around like a puppet dangling on a string. “Kneel here, Madix. You’re swaying a lot and I don’t like it.” 

“Don’t feel good,” he slurred. A hiccup made his chest jump and more slushy vomit splattered onto the grass. The sound gurgled in his throat. “Ugh, my belly. I’m so full.” 

Wave after wave came up from Madix’s upset belly. It was relentless and slow. Whenever he thought he was finished, the nausea shot back through his body. Droplets of sweat coated his forehead, dampening the strands of hair that hung in front of his eyes. 

Dakota brushed the hair off his forehead. It was not a hot night and yet still Madix was melting. “You’re so out it, man. I think you have a fever.” 

Madix nodded lazily. “Yeah probably. This is a lot.” He blinked quickly. “I can’t focus long enough to…to…do anything.” 

“You don’t have to do anything but sit. Wait until you feel better. Do you still need to puke?” 

“I think so.” He rubbed his stomach. “It’s like gurgling, my belly. This was not a good time to eat fair food.” 

“No kidding,” Dakota laughed, “I’ll jot that down: don’t go to fair with flu.”  

[secretobsessionstuff]

you should make more sickfics!!

I should, I miss it.

My characters are often on my brain. Sometimes scenarios come to my head, but it's hard to make it go beyond an idea.

Also time. I have a lot of urges to write on my days off, but that's just two days of the week. I miss college when I wrote for this blog so much.

[seth-whumps]

no but trust me you look so beautiful when you're in formalwear and distress. you should lay down and futz with your collar and whimper feverishly about it. maybe even get a damp cloth on your forehead if you're freaky. who said that

[sunshinejojo]

Caretaker and Sickie are out at an event when Sickie says "I need to use the bathroom" and rushes off.

When Sickie doesn't come back, Caretaker sends a text.

Caretaker: You ok?

Sickie: No.

Sickie: I just threw up. Kinda a lot.

[tv-testzone]

i keep seeing things and going "that should make them throw up" like sure mr. emeto i bet your opinion is not biased at all. anyways everyone should make characters vomit. for me

[secretobsessionstuff]

Me: Oh this character is hungover? Now would be a good time to see them throw up.

Also Me: Dramatic angst and overwhelming emotions? Throwing up is only logical.

And Me: Nerves on a first date and emotional vulnerability? Cue throwing up with comfort, please.

[sickfic-shiz]

Different kinds of stubbornness when sick… they all refuse to stop and take a break, but the different flavors are fun

- Pragmatic, “I’m already at work and I’m not THAT sick” “it’s only three hours before I can go home” type, that’s the most stubborn when they’re already halfway through the day and it’s such an inconvenience to leave now. They can take tomorrow off instead. They don’t mind acknowledging they’re unwell but refuse to leave anyway.

- Classic refusing to be a burden, “don’t worry about me”, they don’t want people to know they’re sick, and they feel bad when the people around them even try to make things easier, they can keep going, they’re fine, nothing is wrong even if they’re feverish and nauseous and on the verge of throwing up.

- In denial, “I’m just tired”, doesn’t want to accept that they’re sick. Maybe they’ve been exposed to some kind of bug at home or at work but it sounds miserable from what other people have said and surely they’re not that unlucky that they’ve caught it…

- Delirious, so sick that they’re not thinking straight, but they just mumble and insist that they’re fine out of habit even though they can barely stand or walk. They can’t understand why everyone is so worried about them.

- Someone else is more sick/more urgently in need than them, so they mask their own illness stubbornly so they don’t take attention away from them. They help take care of the other person even though they start to feel worse, and they insist they’re fine until they throw up on the floor or something equally damning

[secretobsessionstuff]

I'm obsessed with all of these 😍

[fav-emeto]

I couldn't keep the medicine down🥺😭

If someone wants to chat to comfort me, it'd be really appreciated. Can't remember the last time my stomach got this bad😭

Some of it splashed back on my face and boobs.

Really craving a hot bath right now because my mind can still feel the chunks between my boobs despite me wiping them away but I'm so dizzy, it's too dangerous to take one alone.

Just thinking about the broccoli on my boobs makes me gag again.

[secretobsessionstuff]

Wow I might watch this all night while imagining a sickfic to go with it. 😍

[queenpink27]

Well I got a little pukey, I was really loud in this one!

[schwankydoo]

Since I'm actually reblogging stuff now, guess I'll start with this

[schwankydoo]

Coming back to this audio, need this all over me

[tummieaching]

Visit Original Link

I've been dealing with a stomach flu and the nausea has been awful, but not bad enough to puke more ... so I tried to stuff myself ... I made myself probably 20-25 chicken dumplings for dinner and ate them all, burnt a few but didn't want them to go to waste ... I sat on the couch as decided I was really going to pile it on, so I had 8 cups of peach yogurt (I really don't like peach, it was hard to get that down) a slice of chocolate cake, and a big, thick chocolate chip cookie ... I didn't realize how full I was until I started chugging water ... I had about four full glasses of water, the last one being chugged at the beginning of this audio, but it was too much, I couldn't even finish it ... my belly has never hurt so much and been so tight in my life ... every time I sat up I felt it coming up my throat, bit I couldn't get much more out than spit and what was sitting at the very top ... there were two times where I leaned back to wipe my mouth, and had to quickly lean forward again to puke up a tiny little bit, and that felt so, so good ... I wish I was more successful ... my poor belly was so hard all night long ... I got up so many guttural burps ...

A photo of the tiny bit I puked up below ..

[gainingbunny]

had to move myself to the bathroom floor near the toilet in case I lost my dinners! I chugged some water after my meals and my belly did not agree with it at all! the last burp in this video felt amazing🐷 I am in serious discomfort still, every burp a little water comes back up

[xepher-3]

Those awkward little moments before a person throws up and is just kinda groaning and breathing heavily while gagging

[softsnzstuff]

I see your intentional temperature taking and I raise you unintentional temperature taking.

A kiss on the head after work, running your hands through their hair, touching their cheek before a kiss.

The caregiver, concerned and taken aback, says “You feel a bit warm. I think you might be running a fever…”

The sickie seems to ponder for a minute. “Oh. So that’s why I feel so tired/achy/thirsty/cold…”

Caregiver leads them to bed or to the couch to get cozy, anticipating the wave of symptoms that will inevitably hit the sickie in the morning. 😮‍💨

[secretobsessionstuff]

The Vomiting Center: A Sickfic of Sorts

🤢

The brain contains a collection of neurons that together make up what is known as the vomiting center.

It tickles me in a somewhat unpleasant way that we have only discovered this specific center that governs a bodily function. We have plenty other bodily mechanisms that are equally as important to our health, so why is there just a center for throwing up? Sure, vomiting is crucial from an evolutionary standpoint—In the event that we ingest something poisonous, we need a means of getting the toxic substance out quickly. Full digestion and subsequent excretion takes too long, especially if we're dealing with a fast-acting poison. So vomiting, as much as it is an uncomfortable process, is foremost a lifesaving code built into the computer that is our brain.

But why does it have an entire brain structure dedicated to it? We don't have a sneezing center. We don't have a pus secretion center. So why does puking reign supreme?

I'm actually not here to answer that question because I really don't know the answer myself. I'm here just to think about the oddities of the human body. I'm intrigued by this topic because vomiting is a very physical and obvious form of distress or sickness. It brings with it societal implications such as drunkenness and pregnancy. It is also a deeply emotional and psychological process.

Think about the emotions you would feel. Embarrassment, anxiety, shame, disgust. Not only that! But the emotions you feel when it's happening to someone else. Disgust, empathy, anxiety, sympathy, concern.

Vomiting is biological, social, and psychological! The interdisciplinary science nerds are going crazy with that trifecta.

Okay, I bet I could think of many more human things that would light up all three categories, but I’m going to stick with the vomiting center because it's on my mind ever since a case of food poisoning derailed my friends-giving night.

Patient zero was technically the rotisserie chicken that was hosting the bacteria E. coli, but for the sake of my story we all understand that the real patient zero was the first person to eat the contaminated food. I wasn't keeping track of who ate what when—all I know is that my boyfriend showed his symptoms first.

It started with fatigue. While our group of friends chatted in the talking circle, Jamie regressed into a drowsy and grouchy state. He didn't add to the conversation. I wasn't even sure if he was listening. His eyelids drooped as if he had pulled an all-nighter.

The next symptom surprised me because he went from being a still couch cushion to a fidgety ball of tension. His knee bounced up and down. His lip became the target of violence from his teeth. His complexion dulled to a lifeless gray. In eleventh grade, I remember dissecting piglets. The baby pigs were the color of clumpy milk and rotting livers. That is what Jamie looked like. This symptom is called nausea.

Nausea is a lovely warning system...if you weren’t my boyfriend Jamie who decided to ignore the warning signals. He is a stubborn man who does not like submitting to an illness. His nervous system was working as it should, detecting unsafe bacteria in his stomach and sending the proper signals to the brain by way of the vagus nerve.

His tummy, and remember all of our tummies, was in the process of detecting something funny about that chicken. Just then, the bacteria that was in the chicken was releasing a wonderful little toxin called Shiga toxin.

Jamie's brain got word of this toxin and started the necessary emergency protocol.

His belly was churning and gurgling from the excess of gastric juice that was trying to coat his stomach lining, dilute the toxin, and move the bacteria along. It's all very intentional but that fact would not have eased Jamie's mind. He was only focused on the fact that he felt horrible.

Some of the emotional consequences of vomiting were starting to appear. Embarrassment was setting in as his belly let out wet gurgles. Dread started to squeeze his throat, bringing him to the edge of panic. He even felt guilty that he was possibly about to ruin the mood of the party by revealing his ailment.

Another time I will talk about the emotional states that bring on tummy troubles—yet another fascinating feature of the vomiting center! It's funny to me that the two bodily results can swap places. Each can cause and be caused by the other. But more on that later because my boyfriend was moments away from heaving his half-digested dinner on the living room rug.

Looking back, it's remarkable that I didn't, nor did anyone else besides Jamie, feel sick yet. He was alone in his suffering for now. My poor boy. I wish he had pulled me aside to tell me how he felt. We could have avoided the following event.

Jamie's body had long since abandoned the hope of pushing his Thanksgiving meal safely through his digestive track. Other unpleasant symptoms would appear from his intestines later, but just then his brain had to handle the mess in his belly.

His stomach had stopped moving, leaving the spoiled food to putrefy in the acid and juices. Pockets of gas bubbled up from this soup. The burps rose in his throat, filling his mouth with the foul taste of bad meat.

The vomiting center authorized the next stage: Salivation to protect his teeth from the acid that was about to fill his mouth. You would think that Jamie would finally heed this warning. But no. Everything had happened much too fast to react logically.

His abdominal muscles contracted to push the tainted food up his esophagus. I imagine it was like playing the bagpipes. Muscles squeezing the bag until something productive came out.

Jamie is the type of person who didn’t care about his food touching on his plate. It was all going to end up in the same place anyway. In contrast, I never let my mashed potatoes touch the chicken. The peas never touched the potatoes, and the gravy never touched the peas. Obviously, I knew that the stomach turned my meal into one big brown sludge, but I did not want to think about that. That night, I got a reminder that it really doesn’t matter how your food is presented on the plate. It was all going to look the same inside your body. 

Jamie’s meal did not stay inside his body unfortunately…or perhaps fortunately because it really had no business staying there. His brain had been right to authorize a purge. Too bad it had to feel so awful for him. 

I could describe gravity in the same scientific way that I’ve been describing vomiting, but you know what liquid splattering to the floor looks like. You can imagine a cascade of thick liquid falling from a person’s mouth. I could describe the guttural heaves made by the throat opening and closing, but I have a feeling you can hear it all on your own. 

Vomiting relies on muscular contraction, just like exercising, so it was no surprised that Jamie was sweating from the exertion. My poor boyfriend was shaking and gagging and generally looking terribly unwell. 

Public sickness causes a fascinating phenomenon that is once again due to evolution. Sympathetic vomiting. Our friend Tara who had not eaten any chicken that night because she was vegan found herself running to the bathroom all the same. The monkey part of her brain didn’t care that she hadn’t eaten the tainted food. Evolution created something like this: Jamie sick. Jamie maybe poisoned, that not good. Me no wanna be poisoned either. Idea! Make stomach do same thing. No poison here. Foolproof plan. 

Oh vomiting center, you are funny. 

Not all humans react the same way. Don’t worry—Jamie got all the comfort and care he needed to recover from the embarrassing incident. It certainly helped when the rest of us started developing symptoms. He was no longer alone in his suffering because human physiology tries its best to work properly in every person. Thankfully, each of our vomiting centers detected the same health risk and promptly dealt with it in the only way it knew how. 

The way I see it, brains may appear to be cold computers, but they are really choreographers. Our heads are ballrooms, hosting elaborate dances in which every step needs to be executed perfectly in order to keep the party going. Every dancer needs to succeed its step or else they risk tripping up their partners. It’s complicated and beautiful. No, it’s beautiful because it’s complicated. I know it doesn’t feel good in the moment, but vomiting is truly a flawless physiological performance.