30, he/him, 18+ only. previously used this url for all horn-adjacent topics, but these days you can find gut stuff (emeto, stuffing, &c.) here, and general illness/whump over at hecticcheer. n.b. the latter's also where i follow from
Fuck it, I'm going to go out and say it: while I often enjoy being teased on here, a fair portion of what I receive irritates me as it's misguided at best and reeks deeply of unlearned, malicious fatphobia at its worst. Yes I want to be fatter but I'm not fat. I am a 140-lbs/63.5-kg twink despite all my efforts to gain weight. I'm not stick thin, sure, but I'm sure as hell not fat either. So why are some people insistent on calling me fat/huge/big? Are actual fat people too much for you (perhaps even in spite of you being a self-professed FA)? Is your idea of fatness grounded in equating 'not even that chubby' with 'fat' while not even being attracted to people who are actually fat? Do you solely find bloated skinny guys hot while still saying you like fat people? Or are you not attracted to fat people at all and here simply to take your fatphobia out on the people closest to your image of ideal thinness, who you'd be more openly attracted to if they lost 10-20 pounds, all while still scoffing at or ignoring the fat people at the heart of these communities?
Some of y'all really need to do better. Either own up to your love of people who are actually fat (which may entail adjusting your understanding of what fatness is), clean up your nomenclature, or don't be here. Yes unlearning biases like fatphobia takes time and effort, but your choices really are more or less that simple.
so yeah to expand on that here's some versions of the scenario that i think would be hotter.
first, a fairly socially graceful one:
C pauses midsentence and covers their mouth. D's eyebrows furrow in concern. After a moment C removes the hand from before their mouth and sighs, shakily. They shake their head. "Sorry, I'm just really nauseous all of a sudden." They walk a few steps so they're facing away from D, and lean over a countertop, head down, eyes closed.
"Are you ok?" asks D; "do you need… a bucket, or?"
C takes several audible deep breaths, opens their eyes and turns to D. "No, it's passing now. I think I'm ok."
"O…K. You sure?"
"Yeah." Another sigh, more confident-sounding. "I'm good, I'm not gonna throw up. Sometimes I just get these random spikes of nausea from my medication. They pass really quickly though--I'm fine now."
or, secondly, a super mega awkward one from the onlooker's perspective:
As the last step in an interview process, E's taken the new probably-hire out to lunch. The food's great, but halfway through the lunch E starts to look uncomfortable. They're super sweaty and keep shifting in their seat; they raved about this restaurant, but they've eaten, what, maybe a sixth of the food on their plate? They spend more time pausing with their hand over their mouth than they do either eating or talking. After an especially long pause--and a harrowing swallow--E says to F, "Sorry, I 'm just really nauseous."
"Oh, no. Was it someth--" F cuts themselves off before they can finish that sentence, not wanting to insult the food E sounded so enthusiastic about sharing with them. Instead they clear their throat, then say, "Maybe they'll give you a doggy bag."
E looks up from the morsel they've been trying to corral onto their fork with their shaky hand. "Ha--nah. I'm not planning to need one."
They continue to eat, slowly, punctuated by deliberate swallows. F's eaten all they want before E's more than a third of the way through their plate--and has to sit there, pretending not to find this weird, as E nauseatedly trudges through their entire meal. At one point E excuses themselves, presumably to the restroom. They stand bent over, both hands clutching their stomach, and yet get distracted just standing there while they finish an anecdote. Finally then they shuffle off, and F spends thirty whole minutes waiting for them, fending off waiters who try to take E's plate.
i don't wanna reblog it bc i think op deactivated and reblogging a post to say "yes, but" seems even more awk when you're reblogging from one of the many people who endorse it in its og form than when you reblog from op (whom i usually guess will like the altered version on two cakes>one cake principle y'know?)
so instead i'm just gonna quote it. there's an emeto post that goes like this:
imagine a character pausing midsentance to cover their mouth for a moment, they shake their head and sigh, “Sorry, I’m just really nauseous.”
Then they pitch over and hurl all over their shoes.
and like. endorsed, but also.................. i'm a weird fringe-case/liminal emetophile i guess bc i like it so much better if the nauseated character (hereafter A) doesn't vomit. if this moment represents their greatest lapse and they start gradually to pull themselves together after it, but their interlocutor (B) is left feeling profoundly concerned/uncomfortable/a bit yucked out for the rest of the conversation
bc of how in this case part of A's lapse is that they momentarily forget to account for the inferential distance between themselves (a person who's been on the edge of throwing up for hours, or days, and/or has been in this position fairly often lately) and B (who has the normie perspective on throwing up where it's a chilling aberration and requires special treatment/suspension of normal social rules).
you know: B, for whom the only correct place to be seen on the verge of throwing up is hanging over a toilet. B for whom anyone that nauseated is deffo going to throw up because they're acutely sick, or drunk, or otherwise beside themselves
whereas. A throws up so often, or for whatever other reason finds it so commonplace/unremarkable, that they forget how gross, concerning, borderline rude they're being. they forget that admitting nausea signifies to most people an admission of being about to vomit and of needing special consideration
that's! so! much! hotter! than playing straight B's aberration framework imo
Person A has kind of a dodgy tummy but look ok, it's not that bad. It used to be worse, but these days it's really quite well-managed.
(Uh huh.)
The first time B encounters A on a not-great day in the guts department A downplays with moderate success. Acts pretty normal except for some swallowed burps, impromptu bathroom trips, and the few times A would wince and iron a cramp out of their stomach
But in the middle of the night when B gets up to pee, by the time they get back to bed they're wide awake--unused to navigating a shared bed--and in the quiet dark all they can hear is A's stomach, glorping and shuddering nonstop
It's so loud they're tempted to fold the pillow up over their ear, only it seems rude to comment even in this indirect way on the sounds made by a sickly person's body. Like, what if A finds them like that when they wake up and wants to know what kind of racket B was trying to block out? Or worse, they just know, with that horrible intuition people tend to have about their sore spots, and they never say anything but it sets some kind of inscrutable precedent. No way. B needs to do better than that.
So they force themselves to listen with an open mind, to try and assimilate this part of A's life. It's hard, though. A's stomach seems to produce an infinite variety of noises, none of which sound very happy. Every new one makes B wince, with a spike of fear they tell themselves is sympathy
They scoot closer, big-spooning up against A's back, and when they locate A's stomach in the dark they find A's own hand already on it. It feels big and tight, round with gas like a balloon. Their breathing's so even--they must be asleep--but their posture seems tense, now B comes to think of it. B thinks over their day together and in their vivid half-asleep imagination A seems to them to have been tense with pain all day, standing hunched, their smiles tighter than usual
A of course sleeps right through all these worries. But when they wake up in the morning they perceive B's warm hands before they perceive the shards of pain in their guts
"Mmmmorning."
"Morning. You feeling ok? I heard your stomach rumbling all night; it sounded really..."
"Hmm. I'm ok." They intend to say You don't need to take care of me, but half asleep they have the confidence to say instead, "That feels good though."
because of this text post i've been wondering what my own ideal kink video(s) would be like. i'd love to see one where someone just like. went about normal tasks with an increasingly bloated and ornery stomach
like imagine it starts first thing in the morning with them (i'm picturing a woman so let's just say "her" from now on i guess?) coming into their bathroom, clearly having just woken up (maybe we hear an alarm from off-screen; even if not, it's clear from her messy hair and, if her face is visible, from her half-closed eyes), wearing an oversized t-shirt and boxer shorts pulled comically fardown. the shirt doesn't completely hide the shape of a round gut on an otherwise average frame. she brushes her teeth while lazily rubbing her belly. this disarranges the shirt, and that catches her eye: after she spits out the toothpaste she lifts up her shirt intentionally, to see in the mirror just how bloated she is. she looks displeased, puzzled maybe, and continues rubbing the back of one hand past her navel back and forth, the way you'd rub an itchy eye.
then we see her drinking coffee, wet-haired, in a bathrobe. she's sprawled in the corner of a sofa, having had consciously to make room for all this gut. the robe is knotted once, but very loosely and low down--not square-knotted. it looks like she halfway untied it when she sat down. her other hand is on her stomach from the start, lazily scritching. after a swallow of coffee we hear a long gurgle, and a "hm" of acknowledgment. her hand tightens reflexively on her stomach, then deliberately loosens and strokes gently up and down.
third, we see a pair of clothes folded on a desk, apparently set out the night before. her hand picks up and unfolds the trousers, not caring how this disarranges the shirt set on top of them. only her hand/forearm is in the frame, but we can tell from how she pauses that she's inspecting the clasp. we then cut to her wearing the trousers, looking in a mirror. she has a bra and underwear on, but no shirt; the bathrobe sits crumpled (out of focus) behind her. she sucks in her gut and manages to clasp and zip the trousers, doing a little dance of effort. stands still for a second or two, looking in the mirror, one hand pressed to her lower belly on one side. it looks very uncomfortable, and also pretty silly. she undoes the trousers and sort of groan-sighs, sounding more intimidated than happy. she takes a slow, deep breath through her nose (no voice), one hand over her navel. pats it slightly, noiselessly.
next we see her from behind, staring with her into her (slightly out-of-focus) closet or wardrobe. the bathrobe is back on, but open; she's got underwear and a bra on, but still no shirt or pants. apparently she's spent so long puzzling over what to wear that she got cold and had to put the robe back on. we hear her burp into her closed mouth, and see her arm rise reflexively to cover it.
finally we see her back in her bathroom. she has on a loose, summery dress--clearly not right for the season, since she's got a hoodie on over it that doesn't go with it at all. without seeing her face, we can tell she's gotten up close and personal with the mirror to see while she puts on makeup. her belly hangs over the counter, and we see uncapped mascara. her breathing is slightly labored from the effort of leaning over and concentrating. her stomach gives a long, quiet rumble; we hear her burp into her closed mouth again. she grunts in mild irritation ("mmf"), and her hand, with the cap to an eyeliner bottle balanced between its fingers, claps to her stomach and lightly kneads it. she finishes the task, caps the eyeliner, steps back from the mirror to survey her work. she rearranges the fabric of her dress in vain attempt to hide her stomach. then massages her lower belly with both hands, fingers pointed toward the center, pushing it inward then pulling toward the sides in a vaguely ovular motion. her belly gurgles more wetly and elaborately.
we see her on the toilet, digging her hands into her belly in circles. but when she gets up to flush the toilet follows her hand, so we can see that this trip accomplished nothing.
next a brief shot of her in the kitchen, setting two slices of toast in the toaster and then grabbing, peeling, eating a bite of banana. her other hand stays on her gut whenever possible. cut to an equally brief shot at the breakfast table, where she eats toast with one hand while patting her belly with the other.
back to the toilet, but from a different angle this time. we see the top of her head, hunched shoulders, knees. doubled over clutching her stomach. lots of upset gurgling. no concrete evidence either way whether she got anything done in here this time.
in her car on the way to work we see her fumbling around with her seatbelt at a stoplight, trying to make it looser around her. (the hoodie from earlier has been replaced with a blazer, whose sharp angles also clash with the dress. there's no way she can button this thing.) it doesn't really work; she ends up with her hand on her belly as a sort of protective barrier.
supercut of every significant bump in the road: every thunk makes her burp. most of them are modest, but once or twice it catches her off guard and she belches loudly, then says "ooouugh" in disgust.
some shots at work. her round belly wobbling with every step as she walks briskly with papers in hand. drinking more coffee, mind clearly on her work but one hand nonchalantly rubbing her stomach--and then another shot of her clearly regretting that coffee: visibly more bloated, slouching in her chair, stomach rumbling nonstop. holding it with both hands. readjusting position slightly in the chair, making it creak. "mmf."
we see her come out of a bathroom stall and wash her hands at the sink. her stomach growls threateningly; she freezes, turns off the water, heads back into the stall with her hands still wet.
leaning against the break-room counter while the microwave hums. its droning blends in with that of her stomach. is her belly rounder than ever, or is it just more obvious from this angle? we can tell she's on her phone, but every few seconds a crackly or splashing or blowing sound comes from her gut and she rubs it for a moment. the microwave beeps and she pulls out a personal pizza still wrapped in cellophane.
sped-up footage of her eating it while rubbing her belly under the table. coworkers' legs go past occasionally. at one point when she's clearly alone in the room the footage slows to normal pace. she has a mostly-eaten pizza slice in one hand and is lightly pressing her belly over and over with the other, testing various places. burps, resumes, then burps again two or three gentle pushes later. it speeds up again, then resumes normal speed as she pushes back her chair, sets her hands on the table, slowly pulls herself up. for a second she stands leaning on the table, belly hanging, blowing and puffing with the effort. then stands up the rest of the way and stretches her arms above her head. burps again. this one catches her off guard: her belly jiggles when her hand claps to her mouth.
the walk back to her desk, one hand on her stomach through her jacket pocket. after she dumps the cellophane wrapper and paper plate in the trash, her free hand snakes into her other pocket and onto her stomach.
view from under her desk at work of her belly and legs, which are crossed at the ankle with one foot idly swinging. sounds of typing and of swallowed burps. the typing stops, then resumes but more slowly (pecking at keys) as one of her hands appears on her belly, fingers kneading at the side of her navel. the hand disappears; the typing sounds get faster again. one last, louder swallowed burp.
then, her feet and ankles visible under a toilet stall. angry rumbles and stifled sighs.
a shot of her closing the bathroom (not the stall) door behind her. a hand balances on the shelf of her gut, and the fabric around it is slightly dark from having been massaged with damp hands. but we can hear her humming, and the hand's fingers lightly drum on her stomach. it's definitely rounder now.
she enters her car after work, apparently with a plan this time to keep the seatbelt from digging into her gut. she pulls it out real far and tries to loop it under the belly--but lets go of the strap by accident and, when she tries to pull it out again, finds it won't let her pull it out far enough. it won't reach far enough to buckle at all. she wiggles around, sucks in her gut--no dice. cut to her outside the car, having buckled the seatbelt without her under it. she crouches on the floor, lies her head and upper back flat on the seat and tries to slither up under it. gets stuck with her belly straight up in the air. cut to her standing on top of the seat (back flat against the ceiling of the car, belly hanging down), trying to squeeze in that way. but she can't figure out how to get her knees through. finally she jumps out of the car--brief cut to her stumbling as she jumps to the ground. her stomach bounces; she crosses her arms over it and burps into her closed mouth, then clears her throat--and, standing outside it, unbuckles the seat belt. clambers back into the car with a supportive hand under her belly. flops into her seat, boneless, and pants. starts the car and drives home seatbelt-less.
cut to her fumbling with the keys in her apartment door as her stomach rumbles nonstop. when the door swings shut behind her we can hear her shoes clapping the floor as she runs to the bathroom.
next we see her walking slowly in the hallway. from the sounds of her footfalls we can tell she's ditched the shoes; in place of the dress (and bra) she has on a crop top and the same (unzipped) hoodie from this morning. she's folded her leggings waaay way down under her belly and is rubbing at the itchy red marks they left higher up with the back of her hand. her other hand fumbles in her purse, apparently pulling out of it anything she'll need at home as she walks back to the front of the house to hang it up.
under a blanket on her couch, watching tv on her computer, rubbing her stormy belly.
in the bathroom again, tho not productively. camera behind the toilet, so that it's in the foreground shadowy and out of focus. we watch her come in and shut the door behind her. she has one hand cupped under her belly (pinky finger hidden under the leggings' waistband), and once the other hand's through with the door she rubs it back and forth across the top of the gutshelf. it still sounds like frequent (though distant) thunder. she turns around, pulls down the leggings and sits on the can, tho her hoodie is long enough that we don't see anything tumblr would object to. her gut's swollen enough to peek visibly past the zipper of the open hoodie though, and to seem to sit on her thighs. she puts her elbows on her knees and (one assumes) her chin on her hands. after several seconds we see her tense, then release, sigh, sit up a little, and clutch her stomach. we hear a grunt of pain or effort. when the muscles release the grumbling returns, louder, in starts. she blows air between her pursed lips in defeat, boredom. we hear her fumbling with the toilet-paper dispenser, then zoom in on it to see her pulling off the very last sheet from the roll. then pan to her cupboards as we hear her stand up, pull her leggings up, flush the toilet. the cabinet opens; there's an empty cellophane wrapper with no rolls of TP left. (her calves come into frame, blocking some of the view, but leaving this obvious.) "hrrrggggh."
cut to her on her bedroom floor before the closet mirror, shoving her heel into a tied sneaker. to catch her breath she lies back, flat on the floor with her legs in front of her. we see the underside of an unclothed belly dome, then watch her hands struggle blindly to join the two sides of her hoodie's zipper. she zips it, pushes herself up onto her hands, and sticks them in the kangaroo pocket. can see them knead circles in her gut. she burps, then mutters what sounds like either "whoa" or "ugh."
cut to her standing before the same mirror, trying to rearrange the hoodie to obscure how awkwardly it fits around this unaccustomed gut. this apparently so dissatisfies her that instead she tries unzipping it and pulling up the leggings. "mmngh." she strokes across the waistband where it chafes. there's muffintop; she tries pulling them up higher, tighter, so that barely any skin shows between the end of her top and the top of the leggings. then puts her hands back in the kangaroo pockets. throughout her stomach quietly bubbles, pops, squawks.
cut to her in the toilet-paper aisle at the grocery store. her hands are now inside the waistband of her leggings, lightly patting her stomach. we hear her stifle several burps while poring over the TP selection. then cut to her in line, hugging the package against her tummy. from this angle (profile) we can see that the waistband has inched downward a great deal, and in fact looks slanted--higher up in the back than the front. then cut to her back at home, setting the package on her bathroom counter. she's pulled the waistband all the way back down now.
cut to her in her kitchen. we see her breaking spaghetti noodles and dropping them in a pot, then standing at the stove, stirring the pot with her far hand and kneading her lower belly with the near one. where we'd expect to hear water boiling we instead hear stomach gurgles.
we see her set a bowl of spaghetti on the dining-room table and sit down in front of it. she eats one bite, then pauses, bends over her stomach, clutching it with both hands as its rumbling crescendoes. then cut to her lying on the couch with the bowl on her chest. there's a blanket between the hot bowl and her skin. one hand twists spaghetti on the fork and lifts it to her mouth; the other trails up and down the huge dome of her belly. then, the same scene a few minutes later: the bowl discarded in a blurry corner in the foreground, the blanket slipped down so the top of her stomach is exposed, both hands massaging circles into her skin under that blanket. long gurgle. burp. "mmf." bigger burp. her phone vibrates and lights up; the camera refocuses on it. she turns around and sits up on the couch to read the text.
cut to her holding her phone to her ear while curled up on the other end of the couch, knees to her chest, other hand unseen trapped between knees and gut. cut to her lying flat on the couch, knees bent. we can hear indistinct chatter through the phone. she rubs lazy circles over her navel; her stomach makes ponderous popping noises. cut to her sat on the toilet, still on her phone, laughing at something the person on the other end has said while tracing gentle circles around her navel with the index finger of her other hand. cut to her back on the couch, lying on her side. we can't see her phone but can hear chatter coming through it, as before. she sniffs congestedly, but we can hear a smile in her voice as she says, "ok, i love you, bye," and hangs up. her thighs and the lower half of her belly are covered by blanket, but we can tell she's ditched the leggings because her knees are bare. she stretches her arm above her head, belches, then sighs contentedly.
cut to her shuffling down the hallway to her bedroom, arms crossed, hoodie covering her torso and the top few inches of her still-unclothed legs. cut to her standing at the side of her bed. we see her only in the reflection of her closet mirror. the overhead light's off but a table lamp shines pale light right into the mirror. we hear her burp and then yawn into her closed mouth. she pulls off the hoodie, sets it over a chair. kneels on one knee on the bed (other foot still stood on the floor), plugging in her phone and probably pulling out earrings or putting in a retainer or something. her stomach glorps. "mm." she pats it. burps. apparently notices her reflection and turns to face it more fully. "ohh my god," she says to herself. kneads the sides of her belly with the heels of her hands, apparently moved to pity it. burps again. "oh. mm." lifts her shirt to survey the damage. "pff. wow," she says, as though to a friend who's done something stupid. then clicks off the light, with one hand still up her shirt. all we can see at last are the red-lit numbers of her alarm clock, backwards in the mirror.
finally, cut to a shot of her on her side in bed the next morning, visible from shoulders down to around the knees. pale light comes in through the window behind her shoulder; the alarm clock reads 6:59. her stomach squelches audibly. the clock's numbers roll over to 7:00 and the alarm rings. her hand snakes out from under the covers and fumbles to turn it off. then she sets it on her belly over the blanket and groans.
Horror hunger is such a good trope and I really think it’s my absolute favourite thing. As a feeling it’s difficult to depict but there’re so many subtle flavours of it, just-
Hunger that makes thinking feel like fumbling your way through thick, white fog, shot through with crimson clear bolts of intense, crackling need that you can only follow and cling too in the hopes that it’ll bring you back to yourself when it’s sated. It will- eventually. Though you might not like what you find
Hunger that is insidious and soaks into your thoughts like rot, changing how you see yourself and other people so slowly you’re not aware of it at all. Years down the line you don’t remember who you used to be or what that person used to want other than to eat
Hunger that just sits in your belly like an incorporeal, sleeping beast. No matter what or who or how much you eat, how well you manage to fill your stomach, you can still feel it there, undiminished and unaffected
Hunger that sharpens rather than lessens as you feed it, becoming more and more urgent until it reaches a blinding fever pitch that only doing serious injury to yourself will snap you out of
Hunger that makes your teeth and nails itch, makes your stomach snarl and your jaw restless, makes your throat ache for want of swallowing
Hunger that doesn’t send you out of control like an animal but functions like an addiction. You might put off feeding it and let the need accumulate and intensify for weeks because that will make the pleasure of feeding that much sweeter, that much more poignant
How about 1, 18, 27, and 36 for the emeto this or that!
Thanks so much for asking! The questions can be found here for anyone just tuning in
1. Stomach flu or food poisoning?
Hmm. I'm gonna say stomach flu, simply because I've never had food poisoning and so don't feel at home trying to imagine it, if that makes sense
18. Word ‘tummy’ or ‘belly’?
Kinda depends on context? I tend to be a big fan of characters who are too embarrassed/fancy themselves too dignified ever to say "tummy," but I do also like the intimacy, the sorta homeliness of the latter. Pretty much always prefer for third-person narrators to write "belly" (or "stomach") though, except in free indirect discourse where they're cleaving real hard to the perspective of a character who would think "tummy"? And those are rare, imo. Like, if your viewpoint character is the sick one then "tummy" usually sounds weird to me in narration.
27. Going extremely quite before throwing up or panicking?
Going quiet, but that doesn't preclude panic...! Eyes unfocusing, ears ringing, limbs going so numb their fists ball up--that kind of panic I like best on a quiet character. Though the kind of quiet where they fall asleep, among friends or at work, then wake up gasping as their stomach starts to snarl and clench, with no time to do more than register what's about to happen--yeah, that's good too. For more on which see below!
36. A simple “I don’t feel so good” or “I’m going to throw up”?
Definitely "I'm going to throw up." I love when characters have like, a last-minute flash of clarity and self-possession, when it's too late for that to help since they don't have time to find anywhere better to throw up than a bush or one of those tiny mesh trash cans
concept: a nauseous character trying their best to keep from vomiting, holding their queasiness at bay for hours, even puking in their mouth and swallowing it back. multiple times. the nausea won’t subside and every second they hold it back they become more. nauseous.
And Sorry if this has been done before, I’m just bored lol and feel free to do it as well :)
1. Stomach flu or food poisoning?
2. More focus on nausea or the actual vomiting?
3. Sickie telling caretaker from the get go that they feel nauseous or hiding it until the last possible minute?
4. Sickie throwing up on themselves or throwing up on the caretaker?
5. Shy flustered sickie or shy flustered caretaker?
6. Being described as turning extremely pale before being sick or being described as looking green?
7. Extremely long build up of nausea or sickie has a minute of nausea and make a big mess because they didn’t have enough time to find a bin?
8. Calm caretaker, frantic sickie or calm sickie, frantic caretaker?
9. Someone with a super sensitive tummy puking frequently or an iron strong stomach person getting sick for the first time in years?
10. Throwing up from over eating or throwing up from eating something that doesn’t agree with them?
11. Food sitting uncomfortably in sickie’s stomach, but it won’t come up or having nothing in their stomach but still frequently bringing up bile?
12. Throwing up from a having a bad migraine or throwing up from having a bad stomach ache?
13. Only being able to throw up a little every couple of hours or getting it all up at once?
14. Humiliated because they threw up in a crowded area or humiliated because they threw up in front of the last person they wanted to see?(ex: crush, enemy, boss)
15. Describing nausea as ‘swirling’ or ‘churning’?
16. Caretaker rubbing sickie’s stomach to help settle their tummy or pressing on the sickie’s stomach, so they can get it out and over with?
17. Sickie breaking down and admitting they have been feeling ill all day or caretaker can tell something is wrong and confronts them?
18. Word ‘tummy’ or ‘belly’?
19. Seasick or carsick?
20. 1 person sick, 2 caretakers or 2 people sick, 1 caretaker?
21. Chunky or liquid?
22. Can’t make it to the toilet: throw up in the bathtub or sink?
23. Holding hair their own hair back or someone else holding their hair?
24. Coughing up puke or burping it up?
25. Projectile vomiting that will need to be cleaned up or a more controlled stream that is easily flushed away?
26. Drinking Sprite or chewing on ginger to settle nausea?
27. Going extremely quite before throwing up or panicking?
28. ‘Upset tummy’ or ‘ sour stomach’?
29. Mistaking nausea as butterflies or mistaking butterflies as nausea?
30. Sickie gets caretaker sick: is fully recovered and can return the favour and look after caretaker, or is still under the weather and is having a difficult time helping?
31. Throwing up while showering or throwing up while in bed?
32. ‘Vomit’ or ‘puke’?
33. Sickfic with tons of fluff or angst?
34. Food sensitive stomach or nerve sensitive tummy?
35. Throwing up after coughing too hard or throwing up from being extremely dizzy?
36. A simple “I don’t feel so good” or “I’m going to throw up”?
37. Person that throws up a lot on a regular basis and is extremely fed up or person hasn’t thrown up in years and is desperate too? (ex: wants to remember what it feels like, wants to get out of something)
38. Throwing up during a test or presentation?
39. Tight clothing that makes the stomach feel worse or loose clothing, so the sickie gets a little relief?
40. Sickie is has been overworked and under a lot of stress recently, refusing to take a break until they are so overwhelmed it makes then physical ill or having a relaxing lazy day that is ruined from becoming sick halfway through ?
One of the things that ALWAYS kills me is when someone’s throwing up and the other character has their hand on the sick character’s stomach like nothing gets me more
hands on crampy / achy / bloated / gurgly / pukey bellies are my biggest weakness. rubbing someone’s tummy to soothe a bellyache, or help them throw up, or even just to feel the upset belly churning.
just,,,, touching sick tender bellies, y’all.
bonus points if the touching / rubbing causes the sickie to moan, burp, or puke more.
ok so a scenario where it shows the aftermath of a stuffing with them holding their overfull belly, shirt pushed up, and making tiny whimpers and they’re feeling nauseous but not enough to actually throw up but they make little sick noises, thick swallowing, shallow breath, excessive groaning when their nausea builds up and settles again, and small burps while their belly makes ominous gurgling sounds and they just have to sit there and hope their stomach makes up its mind soon as they rub it and anyway thats been floating in my brain today and im just gonna crawl away cuz im gross
1. Magic hunger is hot; we can cite precedent for this. Moreover, hypovolemia produces nearly the same symptoms as hypoglycemia??–i.e., even in regular humans, extreme hunger feels much like bleeding out. And that’s so satisfying, so neat. Give unfed vampires dizzy spells 2021. What in the whole world could be better than “immortal but sickly”
2. In the same vein (wur hur, I guess): postprandial hypotension. Humans can get it after large meals–it’s like, your nervous system diverts so much blood to the task of digestion that the rest of you becomes functionally (can you guess?) hypovolemic, and so, as after losing blood, whenever you stand up you risk blacking out. Might vampires have this problem after eating, too, while waiting to assimilate their victim’s blood? For humans, one way to cheat functional hypovolemia is by drinking a ton of water, so that your overall fluid volume looks normal and your body doesn’t freak out over not having enough blood. Do vampires use the same mechanism? Is that why drinking other people’s blood makes them feel less like–you know–death? Because their nervous systems mistake it for their own blood? If so then, yeah, those first few hours after feeding they’re gonna be glued to the velvet fainting couch.
3. Honestly, the whole conceit of vampires is they have bad circulation. Do you not realize how cute that is?? Sluggish purple hands and feet. Shedding all their layers after they feed as their internal temperature rockets back up to 98.6, then burrowing back into them when they wake up at sunset, hoping to trap what heat remains so they can at least stay at daytime room-temperature till their next meal
4. Vampires with carefully-hidden blood spots on their sleeves like an old-timey consumptive
5. Gunshots can’t kill vampires. You know that scene in G/reat G/atsby where Wolfsheim talks about his friend who got shot in the stomach while full of booze? I’ve always wanted to find that hot, but I can’t, because the guy died. But if you shoot a vampire in the stomach right after they’ve fed, it’ll hurt them and they’ll bleed a ton but ultimately be fine?! Imagine it–vampire stumbles to their once-enemy-now-grudging-ally’s house, unable to stand up straight from pain and/or faintness and/or fear of gushing blood, too proud to beg for help but so pathetic that the said enemy-ally can’t stop themselves either from wanting to help or from laughing at them first. You know you love it
I imagine someone going to the doctor (better: a friend who is medically trained) because they are feeling unwell. They just have this lingering nausea and pain in their stomach and they ask to be checked over.
So, the medical professional asks them to lay down flat on their back and starts to feel their stomach and ask them questions. At one point, they press into the stomach with their fingertips, and they do this in a quite firm way. They warn beforehand that this could be a bit uncomfortable, but none of them is expecting what happens next.
The sick person is suddenly turning away from them and starts throwing up over the side of the bed. The medic barley manages to step away and looks at them in shock for a moment before grabbing a bucket / plastic bag nearby and holding it for them. All while telling to them that they are sorry and they did not want this to happen but this will probably make them feel better.
Maybe the sickie is emetophobic, which is why they were desperate enough to call their friend who’s a med student or something.
They decidedly Will Not be Throwing Up, Thank You Very Much so they don’t speak up when their mouth starts to water or when their jaw refuses to shut. Maybe they’re even grateful for the distracting sensation of their lower tummy being prodded. But then they press there and the sickie is suddenly entirely shocked, staring down at their own puke on the carpet. 🙃
hey everyone, it was brought to my attention today by lessthanconventional that the Tumblr iOS app’s new update is introducing a new wave of censorship, and unfortunately this one is going to hit our community hard.
the newly filtered tags are going to be “stuffing,” “belly stuffing,” “stuffed belly,” and “stuffing kink” - and I wouldn’t be surprised if things regarding non-stuffing tummy qualities like noises or emeto are next.
here’s where the concern lies (outline courtesy of @lessthanconventional):
- no one on iOS can see posts with censored tags on your dash, including if someone reblogs a post whose OP used censored tags.
- blogs that have been flagged explicit can no longer be viewed at all on iOS
- this only directly affects people using the app on apple phones/tablets, but it will nonetheless severely impact creators in the belly kink community as a majority of tumblr users are mobile users nowadays
a group of us got together and discussed potential replacement tags in an effort to sidestep the new censorship, and thanks to some awesome suggestions, we came up with a list of fun euphemisms. I’ll be going through my blog as thoroughly as possible over the next few days and re-tagging/re-sorting all of my posts using these new tags. this by no means obligates anyone else to use them of course, but I figured it’d be nice to put them out there so a) if you’re following me and would like to block any specific tags you can do so, and b) if you also would like to change up your tagging system and are open to suggestions, they might help out a bit.
here’s the new tags and their associated kinks that I’ll be using (based on “breadbasket” as a dated term for “stomach.”)
