#emetephilia

[facelessoldgargoyle]

more vomit talk

I have a horror-level revulsion of puke, it’s not phobic but I think it’s fucking nasty. BUT! I do 100% get the thing about how vomiting is a zen state. Nothing exists outside of puking when you’re puking. Also, there’s something masochistically pleasurable about how fucking awful and wrecked and empty you feel afterwards. every time I puke I’m like wow this is rock bottom. And that’s kind of fun, yk? Wallowing at rock bottom.

[secretobsessionstuff]

Hey Max! Could I get some sick Dakota? Maybe him and Blair are on their way to vacation or something and for some reason he starts to feel very sick? He might even throw up in the car? You can decide whether he is driving or blair and just write whatever you feel like, please. Don't feel pressured to write anything you don't want to!

Hi Em! This is a lovely request! I hope you like it :)

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There was a cabin a few hours north of where Dakota and Blair lived. It was perfect for their laid-back time off. It was cozy and small. Easy to keep tidy which was important because they were renting the place. It would only be for a long weekend, but the two of them needed time away from work that wouldn’t take away from their wedding savings.

Dakota knew the science behind why he always seemed to get sick at the start of their vacations. He still didn’t like it. He didn’t like that his body started to ache two hours into the drive there. It wasn’t the typical aches of being hunched over a computer or being on his feet all day. It was the type of ache that always invited its friends, Fever and Nausea. His eyes were starting to burn, but he couldn’t very well close them for a rest. He looked over at where Blair was snoozing comfortably in the passenger seat.

The science was simple. His body worked and worked, filling his muscles and nerves with adrenaline to keep him going until his vacation. His immune system had been on high alert with the stressors of life. Now those stressors were smaller, not so looming. He was happily on his way to a lovely little cabin on a lake with his fiancée. His stress levels fell, but so did his immune system, hoping to catch a break as well.

The friend called Nausea was being annoying. It made Dakota less alert as he drove down the highway. He kept one hand on the wheel and the other on his stomach, as if that would help at all. The organ churned up his late lunch. Each burp brought with it the taste of bacon, lettuce, and tomato, in that order…because that’s surely how the science of sandwiches works.

Dakota was not a happy camper (and he wasn’t even camping yet). He wanted to spend the weekend in a bathing suit, jumping off the dock. He wanted to watch Blair’s silhouette against the setting sun as she emerged from the lake. She would saunter over to where he was watching her and sit down in his lap. The water dripping off her would soak his clothes, but that was okay because the clothes wouldn’t stay on for long.

Now with his stomach roiling and whining, he pictured a very different weekend. He really hoped against all odds that this was just a random stomach-ache. The heat behind his eyes meant nothing. The ache in his belly would not amount to anything.

Halfway through the drive, they took a break at a rest stop. Blair looked adorably groggy as she waddled to the bathroom. Dakota also did his own variation on the waddle but for different reasons. He didn’t want to upset his stomach too much, so he took small steps.

When Blair came back to the car, she was much more awake. The effects of the nap were wearing off and now she was just excited to get there.

When Dakota came back to the car, he looked grey and miserable. His face was milky white, though he hadn’t thrown up. He hadn’t given his stomach the opportunity to be sick because he wanted to get to the cabin as fast as possible. If he had to be sick, he hoped it would happen in a private place where they had fuzzy blankets.

He settled back in the car with a huff. He just sat there for a moment then started the engine with a sigh.

Blair put her hand on his arm. “What’s wrong?”

Dakota made a sour face. “I don’t feel very good. My stomach’s upset.”

“Aw baby, do you think you’re coming down with something?”

“Maybe.” Dakota looked very pouty as he turned toward Blair. “Do I feel warm to you?” He couldn’t deny it any longer. He kept flopping back and forth between shivering and sweating.

“Yeah, a little,” Blair said as she moved her hand down his face. It was red and blotchy in places, yet pale in others. “Do you want to turn around?”

“No, we’re already half-way there.” He didn’t see the point of wasting the trip. They already gave the cabin’s owner the upfront payment for the weekend. Perhaps Blair could get some enjoyment out of it while he slept off this bug. There was also the possibility that this would be a quick twenty-four-hour thing.

So, they kept going. It was dark out now and Blair hated to drive in the dark. It made her shaky and gave her migraines. Dakota kept insisting that he’d be fine to drive.

He powered through the first hour. It was the second one that got to him. The glare of the lights pierced his eyes, but that wasn’t the worst of it. He mostly just hated the ever-increasing nausea in the pit of his stomach. It stole his attention away from the highway. He caught himself drifting into the next lane, but quickly fixed it.

Blair never stopped watching him. She watched his expression changed from showing discomfort to showing downright pain. His throat never stopped moving as he obsessively swallowed every couple seconds.

With a groan, Dakota rubbed his bloated stomach. “Bee, I don’t think I can make it. I really have to throw up.” A wet burp made him moan and grab his belly harder. He let out a whimper as his jaw began to grow heavy.

“Just hold on,” Blair, said unbuckling her seatbelt to search for a bag in the backseat. She twisted her body awkwardly, feeling around for anything he could throw up into. All of their things were in the trunk. Damn Dakota for keeping his car so clean. If they were in Blair’s car, there would certainly be a shopping bag right at their feet.

“Please hurry,” Dakota begged. His voice was thick with nausea. Another burp made a shiver run down his back. His mouth was overflowing with saliva, some of it dripping out.

Blair couldn’t find anything. She let out a frustrated sigh as she heard Dakota gag.

“I can’t—I’m sorry,” Dakota mumbled, barely discernible from other sounds he was making,

Blair turned back around just in time to see a cascade of vomit spill from his mouth. He tried his hardest not to let the car swerve as a heave forced his eyes closed for a second.

The gush of sick fell down his shirt and onto his lap, leaving a sticky mess where he sat. “Ugh, fuck,” he choked out in between retches. He just wanted to curl in on himself while his stomach turned itself inside out.

“Everything’s okay, Kota,” Blair said, rubbing up and down his arm. She hoped that if she said this, Dakota wouldn’t be wondering if he were steering them into another car.

He burped and another sludge of sick coated his chest. For a brief second, he thought about turning the hazard lights on because this was definitely not safe driving. But then he belched up a third, smaller gush which made him forget about proper road etiquette. Blair wasn’t grabbing the steering wheel in a panic so maybe everything was okay, besides the fact that he was covered in puke.

When his stomach was finished sending up its contents, Dakota breathed heavily. His knuckles where white from where they grasped the wheel. His face was white from where the blood had drained from it.

“Are you alright?” Blair asked tentatively.

Dakota wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “I guess so.” His voice was barely louder than a whisper. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop it.

“No need to explain.” Blair said softly. There weren’t any bags in the car, but there were napkins in the glove compartment. She gave him a handful but did most of the work herself, wiping his mouth and chin. “Vacation’s off to a great start, isn’t it?”

It was telling that Dakota simply nodded in agreement. He didn’t try to play off Blair’s remark, to lighten the mood. His stomach was too heavy with nausea to pretend anything was light. He silently took the exit off the highway.

“At least you have a change of clothes,” Blair said once they were both out of the car.

The car was parked in front of coffee shop. Dakota hadn’t cared. He just wanted to get out of the mess that he was sitting in. He imagined the strange looks he would get when he walked into the place with vomit all down his front.

But first, he just sat down on the asphalt, cradling his aching stomach. The night was chilly, especially with sick drying against his chest. He heard Blair open the trunk and unzip their bags. She carried his clean clothes over to him then looked down at him with pity.

“Time to clean yourself up, babe,” she said, helping him off the ground. “You’ll feel better when you aren’t wearing your lunch anymore.”

“I doubt it.”

Blair’s face fell. She wished she knew how to cheer him up. But really there was nothing she could do. He was sick, miserable, and sulking from the fact that most of his time-off would be spent in the cabin’s bathroom. She grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m really sorry, Kota. I promise I’m going to try to make this trip relaxing for you.”

“You’re brave for embarking on such a difficult quest,” Dakota said. He didn’t say it with much humour in his voice, but Blair found hope in the joke anyway.