#All I know is that I'm congested and it's giving me a headache and the asbestos in this building is probably going to give me cancer

[adonis-koo]

sweet nothing • 5

(In which he is most definitely sick)

↳ Description: being a guest at the Jeon Estate after a mishap of being kidnapped and dragged into your brothers affairs isn’t all that bad. Truth be told it brings you a lot closer to the mobster and owner of the estate Jeon Jungkook himself.

His two rules are simple, don’t cause trouble and don’t give him a hard time. Somehow you manage to constantly do both in the most endearing way despite being pregnant and waddling around most of the time.

↳ Pairing: Jungkook/reader, ???/reader

↳ Genre: slice of life AU, mafia!AU, pregnancy, there’s like…a little bit of a plot but not a lot, future smut? maybe? it's very domestic!

Word Count: 2k

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Note: I'm back AGAIN, simply because I can't get enough of these two!!! they're my life line these days tbh! i know I said there wasn't a lot of plot to this BUT....theres definitely some plot if you squint

“Are you sick?” 

Jungkook looked horrendous, it was evident he hadn’t showered yet, as his hair was somewhat oily, wild and unbrushed, his voice was raspy and the moment he greeted you good morning, it was evident he was congested. 

“I don’t get sick.” Jungkook replied, but his voice alone gave away the discomfort he was feeling, he sat at the small table attempting to eat but after two bites and the pure agony of attempting to swallow, he gave up. 

Your lips parted before closing once more, a sigh escaping you, “If only that were the case,” this had been your concern since he had come home late a few days ago, soaked to the bone and freezing cold. 

Yesterday when he had taken you out you noticed he had been sniffling, but aside from that he sounded totally find, today he looks like he had been hit with a car.

Jungkook rolled his eyes, “I have three board meetings today, a stack of paper work in my office that needs to be signed and a deal tonight at the Red Light, I can’t afford to be sick.” 

“Jungkook,” You chastised softly, “Do you even hear yourself? I don’t think anybody is gonna want to be around you when you sound like that. What are your symptoms?” 

“I’m not-”

“Yes you are!” You spoke over him, your expression shifting into anger at his stubbornness, “whether you like it or not! You’re sick. Now tell me so I can figure out whether I need Jimin to call the doctor or not.” 

Jungkook groaned as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in thought before he reluctantly spoke, “My throat feels like it’s on fire. Even speaking feels like I’m swallowing a dagger.”

“And I have a massive headache,” He ushered softly, eyes closing as he rubbed his head.

Your expression softened once more, “Why don’t you go lay down? I’ll call for Jimin to get the doctor and make sure you’re alright,”

“I am alright.” Jungkook replied, puffed up at your words, one glare however shut him up.

He tiredly blinked as he sunk into his seat, “I can’t just take the day off.” 

“Then do what you can from bed.” You said with a frown, “But you’ll make others sick and yourself worse if you go out today.” 

He said nothing got a long moment before he shook his head and got out of his chair, your eyes followed him across the room until he left, somewhat surprised at his lack of argument.

Yeonjun who had been digging through a folder off to the side briefly glanced up to the closed door and then to you, “That’s a first.”

“Pardon?” You asked.

He smiled, “Jungkook letting someone boss him around. It’s a rather nice change of pace.” 

You scratched your cheek, uncertain of how to take the his words, your lack of reply only made Yeonjun continue though, “Y’know he used to..,” He cut himself off, as if realizing it wasn’t his place to meddle, “Sorry, I won’t bring it up. I’m sure neither of you want to dig up the past.”

The past…You gave a sad smile, picking at your food, “It’s alright, there’s nothing to dig up, Jungkook was a nice acquaintance back before I was pregnant, if you could even call him that. Nothing more…Yoongi is his partner, right?”

Yeonjun frowned, looking away warily before he eventually nodded, “You’ve met?”

You shook your head, “Only once, a long time ago, informally might I add.” 

“Do you want me to ring for Jimin?” Yeonjun decided to change the subject, “That way you can finish eating?”

You nodded with a grateful smile, “Yes! That would be quite helpful.” 

Jungkook looked downright annoyed as the doctor poked and prodded at him before he had finally come to a conclusion.

Turning to you as it was evident Jungkook was not in a good mood, “The good news is that it’s only a case of tonsillitis.” 

You sighed in relief before you asked, “Is there bad news?”

“It’s a bacterial infection, so we’ll need to put him on antibiotics. Lots of rest and warm, soft foods will help, he should be better in a few days at most once the antibiotics are in his system.” The doctor gave a warm smile.

“Few days?” Jungkook’s brows pinched together in annoyance.

“I’ll be sure to keep him rested.” You cut over him with a smile, “Thank you Doctor Choi.” 

“Of course Y/n, I will see you on Friday for your check up.” He gave a short bow before existing the room.

“I can’t be in bed for a few days!” Jungkook immediately piped up, though you didn’t miss the slight wince in expression at the obvious pain he was feeling.

“Doctors orders.” You gave him a sweet smile as you held your hands up.

He slumped back, glaring through his bangs at nothing in particular, “Can you at least get my laptop?” 

You let out a noise of amusement as you stood up, one hand on your stomach, the other on your dully aching back, “I didn’t realize having strep throat made your legs not work.” 

“You want me in bed or not?” 

“I’m going, I’m going.” You giggled as you waddled out of the room and into the open space of his office, digging through paperwork you made sure nothing was messed up, before finding his laptop charger and eventually finding the source as well. 

Opening the cracked door to his room however you smiled softly as the sight of him laid back down, knocked out once again, a soft snore even escaping him as you tutted, walking over you set his laptop on his nightstand before tenderly pulling his covers back over his shoulder. 

His expression looked so delicate when he was asleep, lips parted slightly and brows relaxed, tenderly you brushed your fingers through his hair before catching yourself. 

Your hand snapping back to your chest as if it had been burned, swallowing hard you shook your head, you had been thinking about the past a lot more these days. 

You couldn’t help but wonder if Jungkook did the same. 

Frowning you shook your head before you exited his room, there was no point dwelling on the what-if’s after all. 

Most of the day had gone by quietly, there was something different about the estate when Jungkook was home, even if he was sleeping away or working in his room, his energy still filled the air and brought a comforting feeling to whatever you did. 

Eventually the afternoon passed and an idea had overtaken you. 

“What are you doing?” Yeonjun paused at the door as he cocked his head to the side, brimming with curiosity. 

You turned towards Yeonjun with a grin, “You can’t tell Jungkook.”

He sighed, “I hate when you start a sentence with that.” 

You pouted, “I’m making him soup!” 

Yeonjun looked relieved, “Oh…okay, better than I anticipated, it does smell good here.” He glanced around the empty kitchen, “But the kitchen staff are already preparing supper.” 

You crossed your arms once more, “Well, that doesn’t change that I’m making him something to eat. There’s nothing like home cooking when you’re sick!”

Yeonjun held up his hands, “If it’s from you I’m sure he’ll love it….” He shuffled closer before peering over your shoulder, “Will there be extra?” 

“Are you asking for a bowl?” You grinned.

“Only if there’s extra.” 

“There’s plenty.” You replied with an excited smile, giving a little happy dance as you grabbed a set of bowls, proudly pouring your soup before handing one to Yeonjun who looked like a little kid snatching it from your hands. 

Setting the other bowl on a tray you tided it up with a nice hot ginger plum tea and a few napkins, “Tell me how it tastes! I’m gonna run this up to his room.” 

“Don’t you want some?” Yeonjun had already grabbed a spoon, slurping noodles. 

You grimaced, “Honestly the taste of chicken broth makes me wanna vomit, back when I had morning sickness the smell alone had me gagging.” 

“That’s a shame because this is honestly the best soup I’ve ever had- second actually,” Yeonjun smiled at his bowl, “Reminds me of my mom’s when I was sick as a kid.” 

You only smiled at his words before briefly glancing down at your stomach, large and round, you could only hope you’d make the best soup your baby would love one day. 

“Well nothing can beat mom’s soup, hopefully it’ll be second best for Jungkook too.” You laughed a little as you walked past Yeonjun, carefully holding the tray. 

You didn’t know much about Jungkook, truthfully, sure you had talked pre-pregnancy, but it always…you huffed, shaking your head.

This had been happening more frequently, memories of the past would surface and you’d have to shove them back down, the past was the past for a reason. You could only assume they kept coming up because well…

It was Jungkook. 

Knocking on his door you heard a scratchy ‘come in’ before opening the door. 

Jungkook was sat up in bed, looking tired as he typed away on his laptop, eyes dragging towards you before you noticed them brighten just a little. 

His eyes then dropped to the tray before he stiffened, “Why are you carrying that?” 

“I can-” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before Jungkook had already gotten out of bed, swaggering up to you before grabbing the tray. 

“Ask Yeonjun next time.” It was difficult to take his chided words serious when he was rasping this hard, a wince visible on his face as he continued, “If you drop that-” 

“How many times do I have to tell you,” You huffed, “I’m pregnant, not dying.” Your expression softened a little as a small smile tugged on your lips at the sight of his floppy bangs covering his eyes in a sulky manner, “Lay back down, I made you something to sip on. I always loved warm broth when I was younger.” 

Jungkook set the tray on his nightstand as he sat back down at the edge of the bed, staring down at the steaming bowl, his expression nonpulsed for a long moment. 

“You do like soup right?” You shuffled a little nervous at his quietness. 

“Who the fuck doesn’t like soup?” He quipped, “I just…” He glanced away, “You didn’t have to do that…” 

“Of course I did!” You replied immediately, “If I don’t then who will?” 

Jungkook parted his lips before closing them, sighing but not saying anything else as he propped his nightstand up, it extended upwards before turning towards him, he paused before taking a sip, “Well don’t just stand there.” 

You glanced around the room, not much had changed, a few chairs still against the wall, a particular spot open to the wall, opposite to a mirror on the other side of the room hanging. 

“Have you considered redecorating?” You asked as you rounded the bed, choosing to sit beside him on the empty side. 

Groaning you rested your back against the headboard as your hands dropped to your stomach. 

Jungkook shrugged beside you, “Not much reason too. I thought it looked fine.” 

He plopped the spoon in his mouth as his eyes shut. He was never a very expressive person, but there was something about that satisfied look on his face that made you smile.

“It’s alright, it's just…” You trailed off, suddenly feeling as though you weren’t as ready to have this conversation as you thought you were.

“Just what?” Jungkook’s brows furrowed. 

You forced a smile as you shook your head, “Nothing.” 

The same way you last remembered it.

You glanced at the that small open space of the wall between both the chairs, how cold it felt against your back when…

Jungkook could obviously sense the uncomfortable silence, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“The soup.” 

A somewhat hesitant smile tugged on your lips, “Of course. I’m…” Your smile became disheartened as you stood up, “I’m gonna start preparing for bed, you should get some more rest.” 

Jungkook frowned but said nothing, though it looked like he wanted to, he only nodded. 

You left his room feeling your feet drag as you closed your eyes, this feeling was something you were used to when it came to him.

This feeling of always dancing around one another, never talking about the tension in the room, except now it was even more evident then before. 

You’d have to talk about it eventually. 

I forgot all about my tags last chapter so I apologize!

taglist: @btseverafter7 @scuzmunkie @zae007live @cynicalbitch666 @somehowukook @bartisedrew @princess-sunshyn @jungk-shook-iiee @chickpea-jimin @hoseokteardrop @guk97butterfly @givemethemaknaes16 @bxcndd

[strayflowersstarsandlove]

Soup (leeminho)

So maybe going for a night run in the middle of a particularly cold december right after an exhausting day at work wasn't the best decision. Also going to sleep with your full head of wet post shower hair wasn't one of your smartest ideas either. But you were just too tired and too unbothered to blow dry it. Problem is you're now waking up feeling cold, with a pretty stuffed nose, a pesky headache and your whole body feeling all sore and weak.

You try to forcefully breathe out of your nostrils only to find them annoyingly blocked and achy, you reach out onto your nightstand to grab a few tissues and try to blow your nose as quietly as possible, considering your boyfriend is still fast asleep right next to you, his mouth open in a triangular shape, the softest snoring coming from it as his messy hair spread out on the pillow: "ah-aahhtchu!!".

There you go. All your best efforts ruined. Just like that. With a single loud sneeze that literally makes Minho jolt awake: "aigo! Oh god!", he blurts out, a shocked and confused expression on his face as he looks around him only to find you staring at him, mortified as you wipe your nose with a tissue, "I am so sorry, I did not mean to wake you, I didn't think I was gonna sneeze that loud", you mumble apologetically and he just blinks a few times, he pushes his hair back away from his face and nods, "it's alright. Are you okay?", he asks then, pulling the sheets up back over his body and resting his head on the pillow, you rub your forehead in little circles with your pointer finger and shake your head no, "I think I have a pretty bad cold. Feeling very achy and stuffed, my head is splitting", you list your symptoms in a low voice, still a little heavy with sleep.

He yawns loudly, pulling you close to him in an unexpected embrace, "mmh", he hums softly, then places his lips on your forehead, pressing the softest little kiss there which feels so tender, so intimate it makes you melt a little. If it wasn't for your body actually feeling cold all over you could have actually just liquify right then and there for attempting to take your temperature like that is exactly what your mum used to do when you were a kid and were feeling sick.

"You are a little warm, but not too much", Minho mumbles, hugging you even tighter, nuzzling in your neck and it feels so amazing to have him in your arms, so cuddly and soft and sleepy, your congested nose still managing to pick up the scent of his skin and his hair and his deodorant and you just wish you could stay like that until your cold goes away. But you know you can't. For Minho's sake you know you should stay away.

You brush his hair gently and try to nudge him a little bit, "I don't think you should stick to me like this babe, you might get sick as well", you whisper, feeling the need to blow your nose once again as you then pat down the mattress looking for the crumpled tissue you placed there somewhere, Minho giggles softly and only presses further against your chest, "mmh I don't care, give me all of your germs", he snickers and you can't help but laugh a little even while rolling your eyes playfully, "I'm serious Min, I'm feeling really gross right now, I don't want to contaminate you", you try once again, actually pressing the tissue up to your nose, "at this point in our relationship I reckon we shared basically every kind of body fluid y/n, do you think I give a damn if I get a runny nose? It's just a cold, your body is just acting up cause you're tired, I'm pretty sure you don't even have a fever".

Truth to be told you weren't feeling exactly ill. You weren't getting the shakes or cold sweats, you were just cold and achy and your head hurt because of your stuffed nose. But you still cared enough about your boyfriend not to want him to risk it, "Minho I'm like 2 seconds away to sneeze a hundred times and kick you out of the bed", you try once again and this time, huffing and puffing, he finally gives up and forces himself out of bed, "fine fine. I'll leave. I'm feeling hungry anyway, do you want breakfast?", he asks, stretching out his harms, his shirt riding up his sides and torso, exposing his abs and pelvis line which looks oh so great.

You tuck yourself further down into bed, pulling the sheets up to your chin and shake your head,"I don't really feel like eating I just want to sleep", you sigh, "okay, rest up. But you'll need to eat something later on, or else you won't be strong enough to recover from this terrible cold", he teases, crunching down at your level and poking your reddened nose, and you can't help but smile bittersweetly my at him, your heart aching a little.

"My grandpa used to say the same. I remember when I was a kid whenever I got ill my parents would drop me off at my grandparents so they wouldn't have to miss work and my grandma would knit woolen blankets for me and my grandpa would always make me egg drop soup and be all dramatic about how I needed protein and warmth in order to beat whatever virus I used to get in the winter", you reminisce, suddenly feeling so nostalgic as your eyes water a bit, thinking about how it's already been two years since your beloved grandpa passed away.

You stifle back a sob and press the back of your hands firmly against your eyelids, trying to stop them from letting your tears drop and Minho looks at you so softly, a gentle, sorry smile on his lips, "your grandpa was so right, I'm sure he was such a wise, caring man", you nod and beam at him, your eyes now feeling droopy and heavy, "yeah, he was. You would have loved him… ".

Knowing just how much Minho cares for his family and especially for his grandparents, you make sure he knows just how serious your words are and how sure you are your late relative would have actually adored your boyfriend," he would have loved you too, just like his own grandson, I'm certain",you add quietly and you can see Minho visibly swallowing down a lump in his throat, he blinks his shiny eyes upwards for a second, possibly trying to force back fresh tears, he clears his throat and smiles fondly at you, "I appreciate that. A lot. Now try to get some sleep yeah? I'll be downstairs".

You're not sure how long you have been asleep for but one thing that's strikingly certain is that as you slowly open your eyes and adjust to the light once again you realise there is actually no bright light to adjust to: your bedroom isn't pitch black but the sky outside your window is definitely dark blue and the pale yellow moon is definitely shining up there.

You grab at the pile of used tissues on your night stand, trying to find the box to get a new one, feeling a little disoriented as you find no old tissues. You pull yourself up a little and realise your pillow and your clothes and your whole room smells like fresh eucalyptus and menthol and your nose doesn't actually feel stuffy anymore.

You also feel pleasantly warm and rested, no trace left of your body aches, no more splitting headache. You rub your eyes until you can finally focus them on the essential oil diffuser steaming in the corner of the room that definitely wasn't there before, and the baby pink crochet blanket still spread out on top of your legs, that also wasn't there when you fell back asleep.

"Oh, you're finally awake. Hi!", Minho suddenly walks into the room, a pile of fresh loundry in his arms and a little srmik on his face as he sits on the edge of the bed, "are you feeling a little better?", he asks, "y-yeah. Much better, actually. Did you do this?", you gesture all around the room, pointing at the blanket and the diffuser, the clean surface of your nightstand, and he shrugs, "yup. You're a very heavy sleeper when you're sick. I could've vacuumed this whole place and you would have still been fast asleep. I think you only stirred like once, and you slept for a full 9 and half hours too", "9 AND HALF HOURS? WHAT DO YOU EVEN MEAN IT'S ALMOST 7 PM?", you shriek, looking at your home screen that reads 6.45 pm.

Minho giggles and folds a couple shirts in his lap, "I just told you, you're quite the heavy sleeper. Now, do you feel like having some dinner? Or at least drinking some water? I tried to make this room as humid and as less dehydrating as possible but you should definitely have some water", he offers and you nod assuredly, your stomach grumbling at the sole mention of food.

"Yeah definitely. Let me just freshen up and I'll be downstairs so we can have dinner together. I'm sorry I slept through the entire day, you must have felt so lonely and bored", you admit sheepishly, feeling grateful for he clearly got busy and made sure you recovered quickly and took care of the laundry you knew had been piling up and probably even prepared dinner, "that's okay, I finally know what it feels like when I'm jet legged as fuck and sleep all day and you're left on your own for hours on end, it's not fun but oh well, I can keep busy".

Once you had a nice warm shower and changed into clean sweats you hop downstairs, feeling very well rested and serene, and exponentially hungry as you walk into the kitchen to down your body weight in water and food, already smelling a delicious, somewhat familiar aroma in the air.

Minho places a lid over a pot and slides out a chair at the table for you, even helping you sit in it before filling up a tall glass of water for you, "so… I know it won't obviously taste the same as your grandpa's but I did call your grandma to get the recipe down, she was a great help and since she's out bowling with her chess club friends she says she'll call you tomorrow in the morning but anyway… Hopefully this is nice enough".

Your eyes shoot up as Minho stands behind your chair and serves you a steaming, deliciously smelling bowl of egg drop soup and looks at you expectantly: "you-you made my granddad's soup for me?", you stutter, your eyes already filling up with sappy tears, "I tried my best. Wouldn't say it's just like the one he used to make but it's my attempt at it".

Your throat feels dry and it's not your cold it's literally your heart sucking up all the moisture in your body and shooting it up to your eyes now fully streaming with tears as you grab into Minho's hands resting on your shoulders and kiss them repeatedly, holding firmly onto his wrists and his forearms until he bends down a little. You tilt your head back and he meets you halfway to let you kiss him over and over, "you are the best thing that has ever happen to me Lee Minho, God I love you, I love you so fucking much".

[laceandsilkhandkerchiefs]

The Tutor Part 2 (Snzfic, Original Characters)

Part 1

It has been entirely too long since I promised to write a second part of this story, but that's often how it goes for me when I'm writing snzfics unfortunately.

Anyway, you can follow the link above to read the first part of this tale, but as a general reminder this takes place in the 1770s and features two of my OCs- Kit (Christopher) Annesley and Eleanor Seton. Kit is a tutor for Eleanor's younger cousins, and she lives with a wealthier branch of her family after her parents passed away.

And as an additional addition, my laptop has broken and I haven't gotten it fixed yet, so I'm posting this from my phone. Please let me know if there's any formatting weirdness, I know Tumblr mobile can be difficult.

I think that's all... enjoy!

If he had thought he could make it through the day with only minimal discomfort, Kit was proven decisively wrong by midday. As his pupils sat down to eat their meals, he ducked out into the hall where he could tend to his nose in relative privacy.

Sitting on a window seat with a heavy sigh, Kit took a handkerchief from his pocket (Eleanor's, he was reminded yet again by the embroidered border) and pressed it to his already much-abused nostrils. Over the course of the morning his efforts to hold back his need to sneeze had caused the congestion in his head to build until he had a pounding headache and wished for nothing more than to be able to curl up in bed and sleep off what was proving to be a monstrous head cold.

Giving his nose a quick blow did little to make him feel better, although it did rekindle a tickle which had him sneezing into his elbow rather forcefully. Thank goodness he was alone- he wouldn't want to disturb anyone with his sneezes, and he could feel more brewing behind his eyes.

"Mr. Annesley?"

Kit's head shot up at the sound of Eleanor's voice, his cheeks rapidly darkening as he saw she was standing in front of him. He'd been so preoccupied that he hadn't noticed her draw near, and now he was at a loss for what to do or say.

"Miss Seton!" he managed to squeak out. "I, um, that is..."

"I don't mean to offend, but you look awful," Eleanor interrupted. "Surely you don't still believe yourself to be fit to teach?"

Kit, more than a little taken aback at the forcefulness of her statement, briefly contemplated lying and claiming he was alright. However, the pulsing ache in his head and sinuses reminded him that not only was he decidedly not alright, there was also very little chance he could convince Eleanor that he was.

"I admit, I have been contemplating setting the boys to study on their own for the afternoon," he conceded. "My cold does seem to have worsened slightly."

"More than slightly, I would say, but it hardly matters now. Please, tell me if there is anything I might do to assist you."

Kit's cheeks now felt as though they were on fire, and as he doubted he had developed a fever in the last two minutes it was no doubt due to embarrassment. He hoped Eleanor hadn't noticed, though it was difficult to tell from the sympathetic look she was giving him. It could've meant anything.

"I would not wish to trouble you, as I am quite sure you have more important things to attend to. However..."

Eleanor raised one eyebrow as Kit's voice trailed off. "Yes?"

"E-excuse... m-ihh..." he held up one finger as his nostrils flared, the need to sneeze halting any further attempts at speaking.

"Hih-ish'uh! Hihh... heh'zschew! Heh-esch'uh!Huh..." Kit took a deep breath, trying to steady his breathing as his nose threatened to send him into a dizzying fit of sneezes once again. God, but he wished he could climb into bed and never emerge again.

"God bless you, Mr. Annesley." Eleanor's voice was soft, her eyes holding an emotion Kit couldn't quite place. Not pity, not sympathy, and concern wasn't quite right either. Perhaps a mixture of all three? Or something else entirely?

The feeling of a soft, cool palm pressed against his forehead startled Kit out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see that Eleanor had pressed her hand to his forehead. Now at a complete loss for what to do, he sat very still, and when she removed her hand after another moment he immediately wished she hadn't.

"You don't feel feverish to me, thankfully."

"Indeed, I, ah, I thought as much."

"What is it you wished to ask of me before we were so rudely interrupted by your nose?" Eleanor asked, a touch of humor in her tone.

"Oh! Well... perhaps I might prevail upon you to check in on your young cousins this afternoon? They are quite capable of working on their own, but I fear they will see my absence as an invitation to be rowdy."

"Certainly, I would be glad too. I know only too well what they can be like." Eleanor grinned at him. Kit smiled back sheepishly.

"I thank you, Miss Seton, truly. I shall have to repay your many kindnesses as soon as I am able."

"As I fear I am growing tired of saying, it is no trouble at all, sir. Now-"

"Ehschiew!" Kit interrupted her as he bent into the handkerchief with a sudden sneeze, more forceful than any that had come before. He blinked, having startled himself.

Eleanor chuckled. "To bed with you, Mr. Annesley. I believe your nose agrees with me."

[sublimecatgalaxy]

I have a crazy ear infection that’s just driving me up the wall.

Could you maybe do an Eddie fic where he takes care of the reader when they are feeling horrible? No specifics needed if you’re not up for that!❤️

Apologies if you’ve already posted a similar fic 😅❤️

I love this only because I currently have cellulitis all over my body and I'm so sick and so in pain. Since Eddie and my boyfriend are twin flames, here's this very real, accurate convo that I believe would happen lol.

"Jesus- was that a sneeze?" Eddie squeaks from behind me, leaning up onto his elbow to look down at my sniffly form. He pouts sweetly and chuckles under his breath, reaching out to brush away the hair that has matted to my forehead from sweat.

"It was a sneeze and a cough." I huff, not even recognizing my voice as my own with how hoarse and dry it is, my eyes fluttering shut in response to the itching that lines my tear ducts.

"What a booger-filled beauty you are, huh?" I send the tissue box at him full force with a sigh, flopping back onto the bed but he's quick, tossing the tissues back at me and he lays down beside me. "What can I do? Give me instructions."

"I need you to lower your voice and rub my temples- I have a killer headache." My lip wobbles as he coos gently under, apologizing quietly for his loud volume. His thumbs are quick to work at massaging my temples slowly, the soft pressure easing my pounding brain just the slightest.

"You're gonna get me sick and then you're gonna have to play sexy nurse for a few days, you know that right?" He teases, peppering kisses across my forehead as I sink into the mattress beneath me, loving the warmth that I'm gaining from him being so close to me.

"Is that what you think you're doing? Playing sexy nurse?" I scoff, my eyes opening briefly to catch him rolling his eyes. "If so, lose the shirt, maybe that'll make my time stuck in bed more interesting." His brows lift in surprise and he tuts, backing away from me to slip his shirt over his head, dropping it on the ground before getting back to his gentle massage.

"Your wish is my command, madam." He snorts, pressing a firm kiss to my cheek with a smack and I cringe, pushing him away from me with a whine. "Hey! My kisses are medicinal, don't push me away." He laughs, caging me in as he assaults my face and neck with his lips, giggles bubbling in my congested chest.

"What a dork."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane2828 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi

@crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the-heart @vampviolets@haylee-e@popehaywardssecretgf @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife @smoke-and-fire @officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @smoke-and-fire386 @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan @minjix @luvrosee

[rohirric-hunter]

OC-tober Day 15: Bitter

(Stretching the prompt a bit but medicine is bitter, right? Anyway this probably takes place in like. 3007, 3008. Thereabouts. I was going to make it longer but it also occurs to me that I am hungry. So instead I'm gonna go eat something. Oh yeah and this is Léonys' point of view, since that isn't actually established in the story.)

You aren’t really supposed to answer the door to people you don’t know, but it’s not as if Lady Hackberry is going to get up to do it, and the shrill ring of the bell is giving you a headache.

You pull the blanket around your shoulders tighter and shuffle over towards the door, pausing to chough before opening it just a crack and peering out. A man stands on the doorstep, and you vaguely recognize him; this is Saeradan, who lives alone across the Greenway to the north in a little cabin. He is carrying a basket in his arms and looks for someone his own height before he sees you standing there, barely visible through the crack in the door.

“Hello,” you say, or rather try to. Your head is stuffed up and it comes out more as a congested huff. “Sorry, but you can’t come in. We’re all sick. We’ll make you sick too.”

Saeradan kneels down so he’s closer to your height. “Everyone is sick?” he asks. “Where’s the lady of the house?”

“Sleeping,” you say. “She was up all night. It’s just me awake now.”

He holds out the basket and you release your blanket with one hand so you can take it. “I was worried when I didn’t see her go into town this week,” he says. “A few people in town have been sick too. I hope this will help. It’s some healing herbs and salves.” He hesitates, and looks you up and down. “Do you know how to make a tea?” he asks.

Normally, you would be offended, but your head hurts too much for that. “Yes,” you say. “I’ll need to go to the well for water, though. There’s not much left in the kitchen.”

You can just see the well behind him, and though it isn’t far, it feels far. It’s very bright outside, and you don’t really want to leave the shade of the porch. He must read some of the reluctance in your eyes, because he pats your hand as he stands up again. “You go stoke the fire,” he says. “I’ll bring some water from the well for you.”

You nod and step back inside, letting the door swing closed and blinking to allow your eyes to adjust to the darkness inside. You pause for a moment to wonder if you should really do anything this fellow says. After all, you don’t know him very well. But Lady Hackberry stops to talk to him when she passes him on the road, and you think he came to help till the garden once. Some folk say he is a Ranger. You aren’t sure whether or not you believe that.

If he wanted to hurt you, though, he very easily could have forced his way into the house and overpowered you. You shuffle to the kitchen and set the basket down on the table. There is a knock at the door, considerably more gentle this time, and you go back and crack it open again. Saeradan has brought two buckets of water, and he leans over to pick up the one he set down to knock on the door.

“I can carry it,” you say. “Don’t want to make you sick, too.”

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Sure,” you say. “The kitchen’s not far.”

He pauses a moment, and then seems to decide to trust your judgment on the matter. “All right,” he says. “Make a tea of the herbs wrapped in cheesecloth, and have everyone drink some. The salve in the blue jar will help with fever and the salve in the green jar should help with coughing.”

You nod as you adjust the blanket into one hand again and take the handle of the nearest bucket. Saeradan steps back a little and then slowly starts to turn away.

“Thank you!” you call.

He turns back and offers a small smile. “It’s my honor,” he says, and then he is quickly walking across the yard toward the lane.

You drag first one bucket and then the other into the kitchen and pour one into the big kettle already hanging over the fire. The other you pour into the water barrel for later, and then you turn towards the basket and pull back the cover.

The herbs are pungent and immediately fill the kitchen with their odor. The smell is strong, but not bad, and you feel little doubt about throwing them into the boiling water and brewing a tea with them. As it brews and the steam fills the kitchen, you think that maybe your headache feels a little bit better, and when you pour yourself a cup and take a drink you’re sure.

The tea is extremely strong and extremely bitter. You drink it slowly, sitting on a stool at the kitchen table, unwilling to give it to anyone else in the house until you’ve had some yourself and ensured that it is safe, just in case. But you feel fairly confident that Saeradan gave you something good, especially when after about an hour you suddenly feel hungry, a sensation you haven’t really felt for several days, and find you have the energy to go through the cupboards and find some bread and jam. You aren’t sure when the last time you ate was.

The jam tastes very bad with the tea, or perhaps the tea tastes very bad with the jam, and most likely most other things, so when you pour it into the smaller kettle and prepare a tray to take upstairs to everyone else you leave the jam off. They can dip the bread in the tea for now. Perhaps later you will have the energy to make some broth or something -- but then perhaps not. You are also feeling sleepy for the first time in days, genuinely sleepy, and not merely exhausted. Perhaps after everyone else has had some you will rest.

[doctorguilty]

H

I was up and awake the entire time yesterday afternoon and this morning glued to my phone so I could be there for my love while they went to urgent care and immediately after the hospital where they were made to wait somewhere around 10 hours in the waiting room for some tests and ultimately get sent home to wait for a call back to come back for a CT scan with STILL no proper treatment in the meantime for what BEST case scenario is ONLY severe pneumonia that's been left to progress and worsen for weeks due to this repeated medical incompetence every time they try to get care. It makes me so angry because if I were there in person I could be their aggressive advocate, these practitioners keep being so vague about everything and leaving them to be confused, but I KNOW the things I'd want to ask, the words to say, the stuff I would demand to be explained, and the things to put pressure on them over because they can't doctor baby talk to me. It hurts terribly I can't be there to do it, all I can do is ask for the best updates they can give and try to glean what's happening.. and keep them company on discord, try to keep their spirits up with distractions. Once they were discharged this morning I broke down sobbing over all the frustration and empathetic pain I was holding in. And went to sleep after they were home safe. I didn't sleep well though because every night I suffer from terrible congestion and headaches that feel like squeezing pressure. I don't THINK I'm sick I think it's likely the weather. Which has dropped in temperature again this week tremendously and I'm also constantly freezing with joint pain and all that. Is November usually this cold? Or had I adjusted to Portlands weather the previous several users I still expect it to be 50-65

Anyway.. it's whatever .... that's kind of the most coherent life update I can muster right now

[jmtorres]

had a weird conversation today where I said Id gotten vaccinated for flu & covid (bivalent booster) and it knocked me flat and i slept for three days, and the guy i was chatting with thought i'd contracted the actual illnesses not been vaccinated

i think we have a reluctance to talk about normal vaccine effects--I don't even want to side effects, because you're deliberately setting off your immune system, this is what is supposed to happen. But because there's so much anti-vax bullshit we try to pretend vaccination is 100% positive and has no downsides and... I think that's actually more harmful in the long run, like people who may not have an opinion get a vaccine and the experience kinda sucks for a few days and they go "oh the anti-vaxxers were right!" well no they weren't, the vaccine is NOT worse than the disease, but it's not fun, that's true.

So it's always remotely possible you will have an allergic reaction to a vaccine, and this is why pharmacies ask you to hang around for 15 minutes after the jab to make sure you don't come down with hives or start having trouble breathing. This is really rare and if you've had all your childhood shots without a problem it's unlikely to affect you. But it's also why they ask you if you're allergic to any of the components of vaccines, like egg proteins, which, if you've got that allergy I'm sorry and you probably already know better than I do what vaccines you can have and what alternates are available to you. Anyway: an allergic reaction to a vaccine if you've never had one before is an abnormal problem and not one most people will ever deal with. But if you are worried, hang around the pharmacy for 15 minutes, they're equipped to help you if you do have an allergic reaction, and if you're going to have one it should happen in that time frame and you can stop worrying about it after.

But then: normal vaccine reactions. Many people get sore in the arm that was injected. This usually lasts a couple of days. I got two vaccines at once and opted to have them in the same arm so I only had one arm affected. It's really common to be fatigued the day or two after a vaccine, because your immune system is in overdrive. I ran a low-grade fever and flopped around adjusting my covers on and then off when it broke. Again, this is a normal immune response.

Some people are like that sounds like being sick, why bother getting vaccinated, why not just risk getting sick? Here's symptoms of the illnesses I got vaccinated for I got to skip the experience of:

runny nose, congestion, sore throat

headaches

full body aches

vomiting

diarrhea

fevers high enough to risk brain damage

difficulty breathing

hospitalization because you can't breathe

death

you think it won't happen to you but people do die of both covid and flu

not to mention long-term bullshit, I had a relatively mild case of covid a couple months ago and I'm still not up to my usual level of activity, plus I have scar tissue behaving super weirdly? and there are so many worse longterm covid effects ppl have reported. sense of taste or smell being permanently fucked up. lungs wonky for months. new blood pressure problems. worse fatigue.

so I got to avoid all that, and I got to choose when I wanted to deal with a couple of days of being too tired to do anything, so I could do it in a holiday weekend and not miss much.

Also, at no point was I contagious! I never risked giving even my minor miseries to other people!

And that's why I would rather get a vaccine and have a couple of sucky days while my immune system learns from it than get the actual disease.

Vaccines aren't fun. But in most cases they're better for you and for society than the disease they're preventing, and for those few people who have allergies or are immunocompromised in ways that prevent them from getting vaccinated, they're relying on as many of us who can get vaccinated to do so, to lower their risk of exposure. That's what herd immunity is and does--when the majority of a population is vaccinated, a disease can't spread through the population, so rare ppl who can't get vaccinated are protected.

Please get your vaccines! As of the beginning of September, 2022, in the US, this season's flu vaccine is out at pretty much all pharmacies, as well as the bivalent covid booster, which is supposed to protect against two common strains of omicron. Pharmacies can also handle all your standard childhood vaccinations and stuff like tetanus (you want a booster every ten years!) and HPV and others. Vaccines are preventative medicine so they're free under pretty much every insurance and government medical care.

[ID: "it's free real estate" meme edited to say "it's free healthcare!" end ID]

[clownpassing]

Absolutely, I am here to help!

So, thankfully you already seem to be doing what I know is most important, which is REST. It's super, super important to do as little as physically possible for as long as your symptoms continue, and then for as long as work and life will allow you to after, preferably another 1-2 weeks. And by 'little as possible', I mean literally don't leave your bed and try to avoid physical or mental activities. The idea is that your body pretty much needs to be using all its resources on completely clearing all traces of covid to best avoid lingering, Long Covid symptoms. This is what people do to avoid/manage other post viral syndromes, so while it's currently not a guaranteed strategy, it's the best course of action we know already works. As far as living with other people, you're also doing the best course of action which is staying isolated in your room and avoiding shared spaces as much as possible. Wear a well-fitted mask when you have to leave for the bathroom or the kitchen etc, and open windows all throughout the house often until you recover. Keep your window in your room especially open often if you have one, otherwise keeping fans on is good too (as much as you can stand anyway I'm sure you have a fever and chills going!!). As an extra precaution, your roommates can also mask up and lysol spray + wipe the fuck out of the rooms you were in after you leave them and open windows. Covid lingers in the air for awhile, about 3 hours, so that's why it's really important to clean the air and keep it circulating to keep anybody from breathing it, including you when you recover! If you or your roommates have the cash, one of them can run out and get a HEPA filter for your room cause that'll help significantly, but if not the windows should still definitely help. I've also heard of people putting towels under their sick room doors, but I don't have any confirmed science to back that up. It works for weed and other smoke I guess 😆 Also, if you don't know, the WHO still recommends isolating for 10 days and then 3 days after symptoms cease, so consider testing within that time frame to make sure you're still not testing positive. Other than that, unfortunately the best we have is still just managing symptoms at home the best you can, and make sure you go in if at any time you start experiencing worsening symptoms. I hope it's been mostly mild for you and you recover as smoothly as possible!!!! If you have any other specific questions, I can do my best to find answers for you. Take care! <3 P.S. I can get links confirming all the stuff I said here too if you'd like, I just figured it'd be easier to put in a separate ask lol

wow ok thank you this was insanely helpful! luckily, my covid has been fairly mild and the worst of it was days 2 and 3, rn all i seem to be dealing with is congestion, night cough, and some headaches here and there. i live w my partner and mother in law and based on what you're saying, we've been doing fantastic with keeping it contained to just my room bc we lysol/wipe/mask up around each other and i have my window wide open w the fan. i have some of those 3M n95's that look kinda like muzzles and they've been working (what i can assume to be) very well :)

the info about resting past the first negative tests is super helpful for me specifically to hear though bc i work an outside phys labor job AND i'm an athlete/i do martial arts so naturally i've been itching to get back to work and the gym asap. but i will definitely try and give it some time, luckily i put my two weeks in at my old workplace so this friday would have been my last day anyways lol but i have an interview for another one coming up that i think i'll have to postpone bc who knows when i will test negative at this point.

other than that, i guess i'll just keep doing what i've been doing! thank you, again, i can't really fully put to words how reassuring it feels to hear some advice that isn't just "yeah you could try this but it's speculative at best" :')

[iwritesickfic]

you needed me

When Theo had texted Seamus "i need you" he had pretty low expectations. Seamus has his own career, his own meetings and recording sessions and rehearsals, and the idea he'd just be available on a random Wednesday with no notice didn't seem that plausible. But he needs someone to play guitar on a track they're recording today, and he doesn't know a better guitarist. 

So he's shocked when 30 minutes later, the door of the studio opens and Seamus is standing there. Within moments though, Theo can tell something is wrong. No one else seems to take notice, but Theo knows almost for certain that Seamus has the flu.

The first give away is his outfit - a too big hoodie and jeans that look like they came out of a pile on his floor. His hair is just shy of a total mess, like he's combed it out with his fingers. He's pale too, except for the bright spots of color on his cheeks, and his nose, which is a light pink. It's clear why when he pulls a tissue out of his hoodie pocket and rubs at it, sniffling.

All in all he looks terrible, and Theo feels guilt start to pool in his stomach. Still, he gets up to give him a hug, and frowns when he feels how unnaturally warm he is.

"You look like shit," he says softly when they pull apart, and Seamus smirks.

"Thanks."

"No, I mean, you look…bad." He's still trying to keep his voice down. There are a good amount of other people here - producers, sound guys.

"I'm alright." Even as the words leave his mouth it's clear they're not true. Theo presses his hand to his forehead. He's burning up.

"Jesus, what are you doing here?" Seamus just shrugs, sniffling again.

"You said you needed me." That tugs at Theo's heart. A smile breaks onto his face, and he rests his hand on Seamus's overheated cheek.

"Yeah, but not that bad."

"Well what was it? That you needed me for?" He asks, rubbing his nose again with the tissue from his pocket. Theo debates just telling him to go home, he's clearly miserable, but he's already here, and Theo still doesn't know a better guitarist.

"We're recording guitar." Seamus perks up a little, and follows him into the booth. He sits down and picks up the guitar from its stand. 

"Ok, what's the…where's the music?" He sounds almost half asleep. Theo hands him the crumpled notebook paper the riff is written on.

"It's rough, feel free to improvise if you want." He's watching Seamus carefully as he studies the paper, trying to convince himself it's not terrible to make his boyfriend do this when he clearly feels so awful. But Seamus doesn't seem to mind, playing with the tuning pegs. He gives him a little smile, which is accompanied by another wet sniffle, and Theo leaves him in the booth.

Seamus pulls on the headphones, and when playback starts his eyebrows furrow. He clears his throat and leans into the mic.

"Can you turn it down a little?" Theo feels another stab of guilt when he realizes he must have a headache.

"No problem. Better?" One of the sound guys, Matt, asks, and Seamus nods.

It takes a second for the track to get to the right place, then Seamus starts to play. His fingers move effortlessly over the strings, and if Theo wasn't looking at him there would be no indication he's anything but healthy. It's almost frustrating, how Theo had been trying for hours to get this part to sound right, and it took Seamus all of a minute.

When he's finished, everyone in the room is silent. He bites his lip.

"Do you need another take?" He asks, his voice still tinged with congestion.

"No, that was perfect," Theo says, even though for safety, they really should get another one. He just can't bear to make him do it again, with his glassy eyes and flushed cheeks and too big hoodie. Though he has no doubt Seamus could do another one near perfect.

While he’s untangling himself from the wires and cords, Theo turns to Matt.

"I have to leave, let's call it." He was planning on staying another few hours - they’re already behind from the hours wasted trying to get the guitar part - but there’s no way he’s just sending Seamus home by himself.

"Are you sure?" Matt asks, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, I forgot I have…I have something else going on." Seamus is now standing in the doorway of the booth, hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt, swaying gently from side to side. Theo puts a hand on his shoulder. "You ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. If that's…if that was everything i think I'm gonna head home. The train is here in…" He pulls out his phone. "Five minutes."

"Yeah, that's it. But you are not taking the train." Seamus frowns.

"Why not?"

"I'm taking you home, we're getting an Uber." He pulls out his phone and starts to tap in Seamus's address. It crosses his mind, for not the first time, that they should really just move in together. 

"Mm, Uber black?" Seamus asks, and Theo rolls his eyes. 

"Don't make fun of me, I'm about to come take care of you. Contagious motherfucker." He turns to the rest of the people in the room and gives a wave before grabbing his coat and bag and heading out into the hall, Seamus following close behind. 

"You don't have to, I'm really ok," he says, voice broken in places from congestion.

"Well you look like you're about to die. Which is why we're taking a car, because there's no way you're standing on the train in fucking rush hour for a half hour to get to Park Slope." They're riding down now in the elevator, Seamus holding his hand. It's something Theo wouldn't normally be into, but Seamus is miserable, and he’ll give him as much touchy-feely lovey-dovey affection as he wants.

"Don't be mean, I'm sick." He knows he's teasing, but it still makes Theo feel a little bad.

"So you admit it?" He teases back, and Seamus just nods, closing his eyes. "You should've told me, I would've come over this morning."

"You're busy, it's ok," he mumbles.

"Well when I'm sick you're never busy."  They step out into the lobby, and Theo sees that their ride is already outside. Thankfully, because Seamus is seeming less and less steady on his feet. 

“You really wanted to know?” Theo stops and turns to him just before they get outside. Because he knows the minute they leave the building there are going to be photographers ready to snap pictures, whether he can see them or not, and he’d rather this be between just the two of them.

“What, you think I’d rather be here? Doing this bullshit? Of course not.” He lays his hand on Seamus’s chest. “Just…tell me next time, ok?” Seamus nods, and Theo presses a kiss to his too-warm cheek. “And if I say I need you, it’s ok to not show up.”

“I’m always gonna show up,” he says, completely earnest.

“That’s really really sweet, but you seriously should be in bed.”

“Seriously, I will always show up.” Theo sighs and takes his hand again, pushing open the door to the sidewalk.

“You love me too much,” he says, and Seamus tightens his grip on his hand.

“That’s ok.”

[s1utspeare]

for the whump prompts, brigid my beloved 💕 either heihua 'Don't give me that bullshit', or fuba 'I knew it, you're sick.' 'Go away'

JACK MY LOVE!!!! GIVING ME THE FUBA!!!!!!! THIS IS SO GOODDDDD i love u. also yeah i'm obviously doing fuba who do you take me for

Send me a prompt and some characters and I'll write some whump!

Ba-ye is... well. He's not doing great.

He's not bad, really. It's just a cold, more than likely, maybe a flu if he's that unlucky, but nothing he's going to die from. It's just a headache and swollen sinuses and full-body aches and chills and a fever and... well, maybe he's less fine than previously anticipated.

That doesn't mean he's going to take the day off, though. He hasn't been able to read fortunes for weeks now because SOMEONE keeps dragging him off into tombs and on expeditions and not letting him run his business, which is what he's supposed to be doing with his life, but Fo-ye apparently thinks that all of Ba-ye's time is fully his. Which is generally is. That's beside the point.

The point is that even if he wanted to, which he doesn't, Ba-ye really doesn't have the means to take a day off, not when he doesn't know when he'll get a chance to actually do business again. He has an assistant to pay and turtles to feed. He can't be sick.

The universe, unfortunately, thinks otherwise.

He's gotten through about four customers, and each one had been harder than the last. His most recent was a woman who wanted to know whether or not her son would be able to find a good woman to marry, and even though Ba-ye had told her that he wasn't able to tell her son's fortune from her palms, she had insisted, so he had come up with some vague answer that sounded at least half-believable and wasn't specific enough for her to come after him later and demand why the fortune had been wrong. He doesn't normally like swindling his customers like that, but desperate times.

So now he's got his face resting on the tabletop, head turned to the side and arms dangling, feeling like he's just ran through a tomb and gotten kicked by a horse, both of which he has had the great misfortune to experience. He's honestly contemplating just shutting the store down now, because he doesn't think that he'll be able to do much more in this state, but before he can make a decision one way or another, there's footsteps on the floor, and he sits up so quickly that his head spins.

It's not a customer, though, just Zhang Rishan, who enters with his strides sure, but his face open and his shoulders hunched, as if he's not sure whether or not he's allowed in Ba-ye's shop. This is very stupid, because of course he is. He's even been here before, though not nearly as often as Fo-ye, which makes Ba-ye wonder why Zhang Rishan is visiting him now.

"Zhang fuguan," he says, trying not to sound as congested as he feels. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I came to deliver a message," Zhang Rishan says, looking around as though he's expecting ghosts or something to start flooding from the walls.

"From Fo-ye?"

"No," Zhang Rishan says, "From Zhang Furen, actually."

Ba-ye raises an eyebrow. "When did you become Yin Xinyue's messenger boy?"

"I'm not," Zhang Rishan says, "But Fo-ye's at a tribunal and I got kicked off the training grounds."

"Why?" Ba-ye asks, curious.

Zhang Rishan looks mildly unhappy. "I broke two of the training dummies, so Fo-ye told me to go home."

Ba-ye wants to laugh, but his head hurts too much. He coughs, clears his throat. "How did you manage that?"

"I don't know," Zhang Rishan says. "I kicked them."

If Ba-ye hadn't seen the Zhang strength in action, he wouldn't have believed that Zhang Rishan did enough damage with just his legs, but he has, so he does. "What does Furen want?" He coughs again. Gods, his throat is sore.

Zhang Rishan frowns, a little fold appearing between his eyebrows. It's very cute, the way his nose scrunches up and little indents appear at the corner of his mouth. "She wants you to come to dinner. Are you okay?"

"Fine," Ba-ye says, even though his head is pounding, and he can't breathe through his nose correctly. He wants to go to bed. "Dinner?"

Zhang Rishan nods, still looking at Ba-ye suspiciously. "Fo-ye's supposed to be home on time for once, so she thought it would be nice if you and Er-ye came over. Jiu-ye too, maybe, if he's free. I'm supposed to go to him next."

Ba-ye sighs, because while he would like to have dinner with his friends, he's not so sure he'll be able to get from this table to his room without having to take a break, much less across town to Fo-ye's house. Plus, he doesn't want to get any of the rest of them sick, even if they're all stronger than horses. It hasn't been that long since Fo-ye and Er-ye were unresponsive in a tiny village, and he really doesn't want to put any more stress on their delicate health (he knows both of them would pin him down with their twin glares if he said that to their faces, but it's a funny thought).

"Tell Zhang Furen thank you, but I'll have to decline for tonight," Ba-ye says. "I'm not planning on closing the shop until late." Actually, he's planning on closing it as soon as Zhang Rishan leaves, but he can't tell him that. It's a good excuse.

Zhang Rishan does not look as though he's going to accept this. "Ba-ye."

"What?"

"You're... you don't look like yourself," Zhang Rishan says slowly, apparently trying for tact, but not especially good at it.

"Thank you," Ba-ye says sarcastically. "I appreciate that."

"I don't mean it like that," Zhang Rishan protests.

"Well, I can assure you that I'm—" He's cut off by his breath catching in his throat, and then he's coughing, the sound rough and grating on his throat, and he doubles over in his seat, trying to get his breath back.

"Ba-ye!" Zhang Rishan exclaims, and Ba-ye hears him rushing over, a hand on his back, even though he's distracted by his lungs trying to come out through his mouth. "You... breathe, Ba-ye. Please."

Ba-ye thinks, what do you think I'm trying to do? but he takes Zhang Rishan's advice and tries to quiet himself, letting Zhang Rishan's hand between his shoulder blades become an anchor as he rubs little circles there, trying to help Ba-ye work out whatever's trying to come up, and eventually he gets it. His breath is still a little rattly, but at least he's not dying anymore.

"I'm fine," he gasps.

"No," Zhang Rishan says, "You're not. I knew it." He sounds accusing, as though Ba-ye had chosen this. "You're sick."

"Not," Ba-ye says. "Go away." He waves towards the door. "Go give Jiu-ye your invitation. I'm fine."

"Ba-ye, you're—"

"See, I'll prove it," Ba-ye says, and stands up. This turns out to be a mistake, because the next thing he sees is the ground, and the thing after that is darkness.

***

He comes to in his own bed, which he knows by the smell of the bundles of spices he has tucked under his pillows to ward away spirits, and the weight of the comforter over him. His glasses are gone, so everything's fuzzy, but he suspected it would be anyways.

There's footsteps, again, somewhere just out of sight, and when he turns his head to the side to try and pinpoint them, he sees Zhang Rishan wearing a path in his floorboards, his arms folded so that his hands are each holding the opposite elbow, like he does whenever he's nervous. Ba-ye wants to give him a hug whenever he does that, because otherwise it looks like Zhang Rishan is trying to hug himself, to get any sort of comfort he can, and Ba-ye doesn't like the idea that Zhang Rishan needs a hug and is too afraid to ask for one.

He clears his throat and is surprised to find that his voice isn't nearly as hoarse as he expected it to be. "Fuguan."

Zhang Rishan stops pacing immediately, whirling to the bed and dropping to his knees besides Ba-ye, so that he's looking him in the eyes. It's a strange position, in all honesty, and Ba-ye has to blink a few times before he gets used to the sight in front of him.

"Ba-ye," Zhang Rishan says. "How... are you alright? You passed out, and so I carried you here, I hope that's okay. I was waiting for you to wake up before I went and got the doctor, but you were really quiet for a long time, and I didn't know if I should leave you or not, and I didn't want to go before you were awake, so I just. I stayed. Um. There's water, do you want water? Do you need anything else, do you—"

"Zhang Rishan," Ba-ye interrupts him. "Stop. You're making my headache worse."

Zhang Rishan snaps his mouth closed so quickly that his teeth clack together.

Ba-ye sighs. "That wasn't an order," he says. "I'm not Fo-ye."

At the mention of Fo-ye's name, Zhang Rishan flinches, which is perhaps the strangest and most worrisome thing that Ba-ye has ever seen, and he's immediately on guard. First Zhang Rishan was rambling, and now he's wincing because of Fo-ye.

"What's wrong?" he asks sharply. "What's the matter?"

Zhang Rishan blinks at him, confused. "I don't... I'm fine, Ba-ye, you're the one who's sick."

"You flinched," Ba-ye says, already struggling to sit up, even though it makes his head whirl. 

He closes his eyes to stave off the lightheadedness, but what he's not expecting is for Zhang Rishan to grab both of his shoulders, making his head flop back a little, and cry, “Ba-ye!” 

Ba-ye blinks his eyes back open, pulling his head back in surprise. Zhang Rishan seems just as shocked, but he doesn’t pull away, just stares at Ba-ye with his eyes wide and scared. 

“Zhang Rishan,” Ba-ye says slowly, almost a whisper, because his voice is too crackly to really convey what he wants it too. “Why are you looking at me like I’m on death’s door?” He wriggles his shoulders free, takes Zhang Rishan’s hands and puts them on the mattress, keeping his own on top of them. “It’s just the flu, I’m pretty sure. I’ll be fine.” 

Zhang Rishan looks down at their hands, at Ba-ye’s cupping his, even though Ba-ye’s are smaller. 

“You passed out,” he says, his voice very low and very soft. “You passed out, and you wouldn’t wake up.” 

Oh, Ba-ye thinks, Oh no. He knew that Zhang Rishan had had a hard time with Fo-ye’s illness, his anxiety on overload at all times for days, but he hadn’t thought about what would happen now. Fo-ye’s better. They solved it. Everything’s fine. 

Apparently not. 

“I’m okay,” he says. “It’s not the same kind of sickness. I didn’t get it in a tomb.” He snorts a little, the sound much grosser than normal given all the phlegm in his head. “Actually, I’m pretty sure I caught it from the fishmonger, that idiot.” 

Zhang Rishan still isn’t looking at him. “You’re still sick.” 

“Yes,” Ba-ye sighs, “I suppose I am.” He turns his head to the side to cough. “But I’ll get better. All by myself, too. I promise.” 

“Don’t,” Zhang Rishan says unhappily. “Don’t promise things.” 

Ba-ye winces internally. He forgets, sometimes, that Zhang Rishan is only twenty, and even though he’s seen a lot more than many of them (Ba-ye still doesn’t know what all the lieutenant has seen), he’s only just barely an adult. He needs looking after, sometimes. 

“Okay,” he says, softly, trying to be reassuring. “I won’t promise things.” 

Zhang Rishan takes a moment, a breath, and then he stands up and straightens, his arm twitching by his side as if he’s going to salute Ba-ye, like he would Fo-ye, and Ba-ye would think it was funny if he wasn’t watching Zhang Rishan very clearly trying to scramble the pieces of himself back into place. 

“I’ll go get Mo Yisheng,” he says. “She’ll be able to help.” He takes one last look at Ba-ye, as if he’s trying to memorize him before he goes, and then disappears through the door, his steps so light that Ba-ye hardly hears him go. 

[clatterbane]

As mentioned in another post the other day, I've pretty much been down with some weird virusy bullshit for a little while now.

Which, in spite of one negative rapid antigen test so far? Seems pretty likely to have been a(nother) round with the ongoing plague. Most likely picked up whatever crud on the last trip to the university medical center. Though I did start feeling off within a day or two afterward, which seems pretty quick if I did catch it there.

Mr. C also felt under the weather for a couple days after that, with some sudden digestive symptoms mostly one night. Which I thankfully didn't get. But, with the timing he was also figuring that these were likely connected anyway.

Back to this post, from the end of January:

But yeah, BA.2 has very specifically been running through Denmark. Northern Europe in general, but with particularly high rates there. Somehow I doubt that's been been heeding official borders and staying on the other side of the bridge, when we are basically in Greater Copenhagen here.

One decent summary, btw:

Also, from Yale?

Early reports from South Africa indicated that most cases were mild—and that symptoms for this variant seemed to be different. “The reports show that patients in South Africa—many of whom were young—have had severe fatigue, but no loss of taste or smell,” says Lauren Ferrante, MD, a Yale Medicine pulmonologist.

Whatever this shit is, it didn't actually hit my respiratory system to even "normal" cold levels. (Just like that previous suspected-Omicron episode which helped complicate getting moved into this place.) I have mostly been getting a runny nose and a little congestion, and have needed to pull out the rescue inhaler a couple of times--for the first time in ages. Though, it is also prime tree pollen season, which is infamous for fucking with my breathing. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Haven't really been seeing any maples locally, at least.

But, that has at least been a big relief, with the truly unpleasant history of frequent bouts of ridiculously unrecognized/misdiagnosed asthma "asthmatic bronchitis" from even the usual run of colds. *knock wood*

No, way more trouble (again) with nasty headaches, sore throat, and feeling feverish. With side orders of gross night sweats, dizziness, and flu-level body aches and muscle spasms which have also been sending some of the nerve pain into overdrive. 😬 All of which does kinda fit the reported BA.2 pattern, yeah.

Most of that has been more on a "meh, whatever, I've seen a lot worse" level, and I do seem to be coming out from under the worst of that garbage.

(Including my blood sugar going screwy and wanting to run high, as is common with any sort of illness. That also seems to be behaving better, and thankfully it never got that OTT with this crap. For that matter, viruses often help trigger autoimmune diabetes, to begin with--and this pandemic is looking particularly bad for that.)

The most concerning part, though? The damned fatigue and weakness/shakiness. 😵 To the point that I can't help but be glad that I am using a wheelchair now, and not trying to walk around between the rubbery whole body effect and lightheadedness. I'm just sitting here vaguely sweaty and shaky, and feeling like that is taking some serious effort right now. Will probably go lie down after I manage to get some food in, and probably fall asleep again whether I want to or not.

I mean, over the years I have dealt with a fair few viruses. And this shit has been dragging me out worse than any but a couple of them that I recall. So far, it's been giving that bout with suspected mononucleosis a run for its money. 😵

Which, again, would be more "meh, this sucks but whatever, guess my body just really needs to sleep this crap off"--if it didn't seem to be dragging on at such a level for longer than expected with something like this. The whole thing has been feeling just plain weird, in a rather worrying way.

I mean, I have been glad at the further illustration of how unusual the sick-fatigue is these days, now that the diabetes is finally being treated properly. It's been so good, not feeling like I've got the damned flu all the time with energy levels/stamina.

But, I really don't want to go back there! If not worse in some ways, which it kinda is right now. The muscle spasm/nerve pain screwiness also seems to want to hang around and keep it company.

It is early days yet, but I still cannot help but get more than a little concerned. NOBODY wants strange post-viral bullshit. But, I was just getting used to feeling much healthier again, in spite of some ongoing medical complications.

We'll just have to see, of course. But, it's honestly hard not to worry.

Not fishing for sympathy here, btw! It is what it is. But, that's why I have barely been around for a while. And I thought I should share the symptom info.

[afternoonpoppy]

By Your Side

(Okay so... I have not, in fact, written a new fic involving hiccups or any of my usual fic kinks, oops. I mentioned before that I wrote a little bit of a Wolfram sickfic and since there was in fact interest in it, I'm posting it anyway! I had this hanging around in a notebook, it was actually very tiny and I ended up expanding on it a bit while cleaning it up, so it turned into a bit more of an emotional day for Wolfram than what I usually write.)

Periodically during Wolfram's time in the Academia Arcana or when he studied under his personal master, there would be days when he found himself feeling... Well, if anyone were to ask, he would insist he was quite fine. Despite any chills or headache, despite a general sense of exhaustion, despite any other number of symptoms that may have plagued him. None of those symptoms existed as far as anyone else needed to know.

After all, Wolfram's life was a busy one. When pursuing knowledge of the arcane, an art that takes years of dedication, there is no time to stop simply due to some minor congestion spurred on by allergies or a head cold. And that is why, when Wolfram awoke one cold winter morning to a sense of malaise and a mild ache in his head and neck, he chose to say nothing about it while Allister prepared for work. Wolfram was tempted to remain in bed, but he had work of his own to tend to. He had been slacking in his self-studies of magic, and it was time to correct that.

"You know, if it's gonna be this freezing cold in the morning, the least it could do is give us some prettier snow," Allister complained as he pulled a sweater on. The recent snow had come down more as sleet, the slushy kind that leaves a mess on the streets rather than nice snowbanks for snowmen on the sidewalks. Given the road conditions, Allister was leaving for work earlier than usual in order to avoid any need to rush. "You going to be okay getting breakfast for yourself?"

Wolfram nodded, a movement that his headache did not agree with, and said, "You won't need to worry about me, Allister." He found his throat meanwhile hated the act of talking and felt raw as he said those words

"Well, alright." Allister planted a kiss on Wolfram's forehead, then looked at him with eyebrows furrowed. "Hm... Are you feeling alright, Fram?"

"What? Yes, I'm quite fine," Wolfram said, just as he always did in this sort of situation. He smiled to seem more genuine. Yet he was met by the palm of Allister's hand traveling to his cheek, then forehead.

"Allister?"

"You just seem a little warm," Allister said, concern in his voice and a frown on his face.

Wolfram took Allister's hand in his own and smiled again. "I really feel fine, Allister. I'm sure I feel warmer in contrast to the winter temperature. A shame I can't keep you in bed with me for the day, it's much warmer under the covers."

"It is..." Allister sighed. "Alright, but take it easy if you do feel sick, okay? You can call me at work if something happens. You know how to use the phone, right?"

Wolfram stepped over to the bedroom door and opened it. "Allister, please, you have nothing to worry about. Now, you wanted to have an early start to work, you're going to waste that if you stay here fussing over me."

Allister still gave a skeptical look, but relented and made his way to the door. "Yeah, fine. But I mean it, get some rest if you don't feel good."

"I will if it's needed," Wolfram assured before escorting his partner downstairs.

…

Wolfram missed Allister the moment he'd left, of course. He was noticing the ache in his head and neck spreading to other joints in his body. A day in a warm bed with Allister at his side sounded more appealing by the minute. But Allister had to work just as much as Wolfram did. Just as had always been the case.

Wolfram was never the only busy person in his life. His peers were often just as skilled as he was and thus had important things of their own to do. If Wolfram were ill, should he pester them by complaining about his condition? If someone needed his assistance before they could proceed with their own work, should they be delayed simply because Wolfram came down with a fever or something similar? That would be nonsense.

It was no different with Allister. He was kind and gentle, the type to take care of a sick partner, Wolfram could guess that easily. But Allister had to work. Should he spend his day working while burdened with worry for Wolfram? Just as much nonsense.

Wolfram stared down at the old books before him on the desk, trying to make heads or tails of this passage's contents. Given the complexity of magic, it was slow-going. And even slower as Wolfram struggled to keep his eyes open.

By the time he realized he had reread the same passage three times over without absorbing any of the words in it, he decided it would be time for a break and some tea. Perhaps also that breakfast that Allister insisted on, but Wolfram felt no appetite. As a result, breakfast became tea and some toast.

...

His family was busy as well. Intelligent, just like Wolfram. A father renowned for his magic and a mother who made for a cunning and well-off merchant. Wolfram did not have notable memories of spending time with them. He hadn't spoken to them in years. There was simply no lasting bond after he'd matured.

Did... Did Wolfram have any memories of being cared for by either of them when he was unwell as a child? As far as he could tell, any memories were met with the faces of their house staff.

Wolfram put his pen down, staring at the books before him. A sound brought him out of his thoughts. The front door opening downstairs. It was only just past noon, so Allister should have been working still. But Wolfram, looking outside and seeing the car returned, made no further effort to question that. He only cared at Allister was home.

Standing up from his seat in the study reminded Wolfram of the aches in his body and sent a fresh wave of chills under his skin. He hardly wanted to move, but forced himself out of the study and downstairs.

By the front door, Allister was in the middle of removing his coat and scarf, hanging them on the coat rack in the front hall. Wolfram stood in the doorway that opened into the hallway, watching until Allister glanced to the side and noticed him.

"There's a snow storm coming in, so we closed up early," Allister said, a smile crossing his face. "Which means we can have that day in bed."

The moment Wolfram heard those words, he felt something wash over him. At first, he may have called it relief, but that hardly seemed right. Whatever it was, it brought sudden tears to his eyes. He tried to brush them away quickly, but it was too late to cover up his feelings from his attentive partner.

"Fram?" Allister asked, and Wolfram failed to come up with words to reply with. Allister asked again, "Fram?" as his voice filled with concern.

A moment later, though Wolfram's eyes were too blurry with tears to notice what was happening at first, he was pulled into Allister's arms. A warm embrace that was both firm and gentle, caring and protective. Wolfram pressed his face into Allister's neck, as Allister kept one hand on his back and the other in his hair.

"Fram, what's wrong? What's going on?"

"I... I don't feel well," Wolfram said. The words were strange to him. He felt uneasy admitting to his condition, but he was so safe in Allister's arms. "Please... please stay with me?"

"Oh, Fram..." Allister's hand lowered to the back of Wolfram's neck, quickly retreating when the contact cause Wolfram to shiver more. "Oh, I'm sorry. You definitely have a fever, though... Well, listen, I'm home now, okay? I'm home, and I don't have anything else to do today. What do you say we get comfortable - do you want the bed or the couch?"

For Wolfram, it hardly mannered where he was, so long as Allister was with him. Allister, who had treated him so kindly from the moment they'd met. Who had given him a place to call home when Wolfram had nowhere else. Who had been so supportive, and caring, and kind this whole time. "I just... May - may we sleep in the bed? Both of us?"

"Of course." Allister rubbed his hand up and down Wolfram's back. "But I'm gonna get you some medicine first, and... Have you eaten anything today? I can make you some soup."

Wolfram shook his head slowly. "No, I... I am not hungry. I only want you to stay. Please."

"Fram... Okay. C'mon, let's get you to bed."

...

"Were you feeling sick this morning after all?" Allister asked as he climbed into bed next to Wolfram.

Finally, in bed and under the covers, where he was feeling warm at last, Wolfram was starting to feel as if his emotions were coming under control once more. Now that Allister asked that question, Wolfram felt a surge of heat rush to his cheeks and he tried to hide his face in his pillow. "I... Somewhat, I suppose."

Allister gave a worried hum of a noise and brushed a hand over Wolfram's hair. "How come you didn't say anything?"

"I did not... wish for you to worry. And you are busy, and I am as well, and... I..." The gentle contact from Allister's hand made Wolfram want to just say everything at once that was on his mind. "I've... I do not know how to say something like this. I don't... No one... I've never had... Someone to care for me like this."

There was a pause, and Allister said softly, "No one?"

Wolfram shook his head, but then looked back up at Allister. "It's... I think - are things different now? Are you... Are you alright with this?"

"With wh... With taking care of you? Fram, of course I am. Besides, it's not the first time, you're terrible with Halloween candy still, remember? Have I ever seemed bothered by any of those times?"

"Well... Well, no." That was true. Allister had always been supportive any time Wolfram had felt unwell. Perhaps the fever was making Wolfram more emotional than usual, or perhaps it was the cold weather. Or perhaps Wolfram had just grown so accustomed to Allister's care that the time he was away for work had been too much. "Then... Then you don't mind? Are you certain?"

Allister smiled, then leaned forward and kissed Wolfram on the forehead. "Of course I am. I don't ever want you too feel like you don't have someone to take care of you. And I know you'd do the same for me."

Wolfram smiled back. Allister's words helped, he felt calmer with that affirmation in mind. "In that case... Is there an extra blanket? I'm still rather cold."

"Of course. You don't mind me getting out of the bed?"

"So long as you're quick about it."

Allister laughed. "There, that's the sort of bossy cuddliness I missed. More of that, please."

Wolfram couldn't help but smirk a bit with that comment. Allister truly didn't mind. Wolfram was safe here, with the person he could trust. The person he loved. "Well then, I'd like some hot chocolate after our nap, I think."

"You want hot chocolate when you're sick? You should probably have some soup or something, you know. It's better for you."

"But it would make me feel better." Wolfram added a playful pout as he said that.

"Alright, listen. How about soup after our nap, and then hot chocolate for dessert?"

Wolfram considered that. It was acceptable. "Fine. But I'd still like that blanket."

Allister smiled again and climbed out of the bed, returning to the room shortly with a quilt from the upstairs closet. Once Allister returned to the bed, Wolfram shifted closer to him. He was tired, his eyelids heavy and threatening to shut at any moment.

"That better?"

"Mm." Wolfram nodded, feeling himself begin to drift off. "Thank you... Thank you for staying with me, Allister."

"Of course, Fram. I’m going to stay right here with you as long as you want, alright? Have a good nap."

Wolfram was asleep before he heard the last of those words, but he'd heard enough to be at ease.