swooningdelirium

[swooningdelirium]

Idea for you. Let’s say we have 5 characters living in one household. They’re all very close. A brings an illness into the house. B catches it while taking care of them. Then C joins the party. Then finally D catches it as well, leaving E to take care of all of them. They start to feel ill, but power through. By the time the others have recovered, E’s fever is bad, and now they have to take care of the caretaker.

this flu season, everyone got sick.

First to fall was A, who came home from work with a pale face and a raspy voice and went straight to bed. When E went up to see them, they found them huddled in bed, blearily staring at the wall.

“I don’t feel good,” they whimper.

Next, C’s nagging cough deepened. It had started a tickle in their throat, but soon moved all the way down into their chest. C was the active type—always going for runs and spending time outdoors—so E knew they were in trouble when a short walk from room to room left C breathless, and soon, they were bedridden as well.

Then, B started complaining about feeling chilled.

“Aren’t you guys freezing?” They sat at the dinner table with D and E, a blanket clutched round their shoulders as they stare blankly at the meal they’ve barely touched.

“No?”

B runs their hands up and down their arms, then hugs themselves tightly with a shudder. “I just can’t get warm.”

D and E exchange a look before D rests a hand on B’s shoulder. “I’ll get the thermometer.”

In the span of 36 hours, three of them had become bedridden.

At first, it’s a bit of a joke between them all, D and E commiserating as they move between rooms with cough syrup, tissues, blankets, and tea.

“We should open up our own hospital,” E cracks as they

But that all changes four days in when E comes downstairs to see D at the kitchen table, ashen-faced and clutching a mug of tea in their hands.

“D, you look awful.”

D hugs the mug closer to their chest and shudders, coughing weakly. “I’ll manage. It’s just the sniffles.”

Before D can move away, E’s got a palm to their too-warm forehead and a sinking feeling in their chest. “Off to bed with you, D. You’re the next victim.”

D groans, slumping over with their head on the kitchen table. “E, I can’t just leave you.”

“Yes, you can and you will. You’re feverish and pale as death.”

D pulls the blanket tighter, a sheepish look on their face. “I thought…I thought it wouldn’t get me too.”

“No one thinks it will. Bed. Now.”

So that’s how D winds up the fourth victim of the flu, and despite their protests, they were arguably the worst hit. What they tried to pass off as a quick rest turned into a six-hour nap. they woke that evening with a 104 fever, having sweat through their clothes and bedsheets.

“It’s going to be a long night,” E whispers under their breath.

——————-

Two days later, E’s standing in the kitchen, fighting to keep their eyes open as the coffee brews, when they feel it.

A chill, prickling between their shoulder blades before it washes over their whole body.

No. I’m just overworked and sleep deprived.

Generously, E had slept for a combined 3 or 4 hours over the past two nights. It was partially their own fault. They’d been sleeping on the hallway floor so they could be equally close to everyone, which meant they heard every whimper, every cough, every quiet plea for help.

C had been up all night with a body-wracking cough, and B’s fever had spiked twice, which meant two changes into dry pajamas. A seemed to be through the worst of it, but they were still so weak they had to be helped to the bathroom. D woke at 2 in the morning, wracked with chills so violent that E gave into their pleas and helped them take a bath to warm up. After being dried off, they spent the rest of the night clutching a hot water bottle.

After that ordeal, E hadn’t even gone to bed—they’d just collapsed on D’s carpet, tugged the nearest blanket around themselves, and passed out.

Until they were woken by C’s coughing a couple hours later, and it all began again.

I'll just finish these dishes and then go sit by the fire. It's probably just this cold snap getting to me.

But as they wash dish after dish, E finds that each one becomes harder and harder to lift. Even the effort of standing makes their knees shake, and goosebumps prickle on E’s arms for no reason at all.

No. No. I can’t get sick.

By midmorning, it’s clear that something is very wrong. E’s chilled to the bone, despite being layered in thermals, a thick sweater and multiple pairs of socks. They resist the urge to wrap up in their bathrobe—the others will know something is wrong if they have that many visible layers on.

So they take A a glass of water, trying to hide how badly their hands are shaking when they hand it off. A must be thirsty enough they don’t notice as they gulp the glass down, but they frown once they’ve finished.

“E, you’re pretty peaked.”

“Hmm?” E snaps to attention, their focus drifting.

“You just look sorta washed out. Have you been sleeping?”

“I’ve been fine. As much sleep as I can with four patients to take care of,” E snaps. They instantly regret their tone as A flinches, then raises their eyebrows. “Sorry. It’s just…it’s been a lot.”

A props themselves up, wrapping their discarded robe around their shoulders. “E, I promise I’m feeling better. I can sit with D for a while—“

“No way. You couldn’t even walk yesterday.”

“And that was yesterday,” A says, patiently. “Give me an hour. If I don’t feel up to it, I’ll tell you.”

“Fine,” E says, too tired to fight with a suddenly chipper A. “But if you even seem slightly faint, it’s back to bed.”

——————

C is the next patient to raise alarms. Though their hacking cough has rendered them voiceless, they seem to be on the mend—vigorously pointing on things and writing messages on their notepad.

E, you look sick. C stabs the pointed message with their finger for emphasis.

E stifles a groan. “You’re one to talk. Drink your cough medicine.”

C accepts the shot of dark red syrup, but their eyes don’t leave B as they take it.

E meets A in the hallway, and before they can ask, A rattles off a report on B. “Fever’s still holding steady at 101.4. They’re miserable, but they’re not going to die. Gave them a cold washcloth, aspirin, and an extra blanket.”

“That’s….good work, A.”

A rolls their eye. “You’re not the only one who can play nurse.”

D is the final stop—they’re still in the roughest shape, feverish and mumbling incoherently, but A manages to soothe them with a cool hand to the forehead and some soft words. E adds another blanket to D’s bed and forces some more medicine into them, and D’s asleep in three minutes.

All patients accounted for, they leave D to rest. E’s about to tell—no, demand—that A goes back to bed, when a sudden dizzy feeling washes over them, and they grab the doorframe.

“E? You alright?”

“I…..I…” Suddenly, E can’t even form words, they just know they’re freezing, and they’re torn between keeping hold of the wall and wrapping their arms around themselves, get warm get warm get warm, and when they choose neither, their knees buckle and they crumple to the floor.

——————

The first thing E realizes, as A and C help them to sit on their bed, is that their sheets are crisp and clean. When was the last time they’d slept a full night in their bed?

“A, go….go to bed,” E rasps weakly through chattering teeth, huddling on the edge of the bed as A helps them into pajamas. “I’ll manage.”

“E, you can’t even keep your head up. Just let us help you change.”

E shudders weakly as their bare, feverish skin hits the chilly air, and A eases them under the covers, rubbing their back. “There you go. Nice and warm.” E leans into the touch, groaning softly, and they feel a thermometer poke under their tongue.

“103.6.”

E groans, pulling the blankets tighter. “I…I can’t be sick.”

“Hush.” A covers them with another blanket. “You took care of us, now let us take care of you.”

E is too feverish and cold and achy to protest, so they let them.

[swooningdelirium]

the fever forehead feel… like if you agree 🥰

[swooningdelirium]

The sheer romanticism of a character being bedridden with a fever and a cough and another character sitting on the edge of the said sickbed and stroking their hair with concern in their eyes. In this essay I will

[swooningdelirium]

as someone who runs a bit cold AND has chronic pain, body aches or feeling chilly won’t always tip me off right away. it’s not until my teeth are chattering and my body feels like it’s made of lead that i realize i’ve got a fever

Thinking about how fevers will work with one’s natural body temperature.

Maybe you’ve got a character who runs hot, generally—they’re bigger or have more muscle mass, or they’ve just always been on the warmer side. Always sporting a loose t-shirt or tank top around the house, sleeps with light blankets only. Then they get a fever, and everyone immediately notices, because they’re currently wearing more than one layer of clothes or piling on the blankets. It’s an instant tell.

Or maybe you’ve got a character who runs cold, who tends to wear thick winter coats in the fall and can be shivering in a standard office building, and they’re slower on the uptake. Being a bit more chilly than usual doesn’t immediately alarm them. Cold fingers and toes are part of their norm. Until the day drags on, blankets don’t take the edge off, they feel increasingly worse and realize, Oh—I’ve got a fever.

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Bill hitched up his pants, flipped up the collar of his shirt, and began to slouch around in a kind of moody, hoody strut. His voice dropped down low’ and he said, “I’m gonna killya, kid. Don’t gimme no crap. I’m dumb but I’m big. I can crack walnuts with my forehead. I can piss vinegar and shit cement. My name’s Honeybunch Bowers and I’m the boss prick round dese-yere Derry parts.”

Eddie had collapsed to the stream-bank now and was rolling around, clutching his stomach and howling. Ben was doubled up, head between his knees, tears spouting from his eyes, snot hanging from his nose in long white runners, laughing like a hyena.

- Bill Denbrough, Eddie Kaspbrak, and Ben Hanscom in Stephen King, IT (p. 240-1) 🎈

[I love these little shitheads. Ben and Eddie just got whupped by Bowers like an hour before this and they’re hysterically crying, pissing themselves at his expense even though Bowers and his cronies can stomp through again at any time.]

[swooningdelirium]

as someone with POTS, knowing you’re about to faint and worrying your loved ones will be upset/scared/etc is so real

A looked at B. “Don’t be mad,” they said impassively, before collapsing hard onto the ground.

[swooningdelirium]

the added layer of intimacy that comes with this type of trust. the quiet vulnerability in confessing that something isn’t right. the surrender of showing someone else what hurts and knowing they’ll help make it better.

anon you are so correct

As much as I adore the "whumpee hides their suffering" trope, one of my FAVORITE things to see is a fictional character admitting to being sick or injured.

I read the line "I don't feel well" in dialogue and I go nuts

said with shame. said with confusion. said with surprise. said with a strained smile. literally any delivery I just love it. I eat that stuff UP

and again, I love the hidden-injury / hidden-sickness trope. I love seeing a whumpee struggling to hide their plight and eventually getting caught when they're at the end of their ropes. but I also love it when a whumpee trusts the characters around them enough that they let them know immediately. the minute they feel something wrong, they say so.

a wounded character flinching after a strenuous activity and going "uhh guys I think I broke the stitches"

a character pausing mid-sentence when they suddenly feel the effects of something and bracing themself on the nearest surface. "Give me a second. I just got dizzy."

an analytical character listing their symptoms and getting all puzzled about why they're sick (trying to diagnose themself). turning to the semi-reformed villain and saying "you didn't poison me did you" "not this time. would've been funny though"

the team medic being pragmatic about their injury. "it's okay. the shock will keep me awake"

Or alternatively, they do try to hide it but they're so outlandishly bad at it that everyone finds out in like three minutes. "I'm fine" "no you're not" "Okay I'm not"

characters who are told they have a fever and instead of immediately going "no I don't" they're like "do I?"

I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS ABOUT IT IT JUST GIVES ME WHUMPERFLIES. WE NEED TO SHOW MORE LOVE TO FICTIONAL CHARACTERS WHO ADMIT THEY AREN'T DOING WELL

this is also one of my favorites because my all time fav trope is when a whumpee is trying to be responsible for their body but something is keeping them from rest, whether that's a situation where they have to run/fight or just not being believed.

my personal favorite is "i don't feel right" omg. i read that and forget how to act!!

[swooningdelirium]

touch-starvation needs to be written with emphasis on the starving part. you are hungry to be touched. so hungry that even the very taste of it makes you nauseous. it has been long since anything has ever touched you, ever fed you - that your body has grown more used to that gnawing emptiness more than anything else. it's better for you to be held, to eat but it makes you sick to try. you know

[swooningdelirium]

considering the world-shattering implications of richie tozier being thirteen years old when the simpsons premieres in december of 1989

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A friend group out at coffee and one of them has a cold and somebody feels their forehead and then EVERYBODY needs to feel their forehead.

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B finally admits they “don’t feel so hot,” which prompts A to rest a hand on their forehead for a moment.

“I don’t know,” A mutters. “You’re feeling pretty hot to me.”

just something to consider

something about the phrase “i don’t feel too hot” just gets me

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can’t believe i’ve never told this story on here

i had mono when i was in sixth grade. it was brutal and took a massive toll on my body since i was so young. after spending a few weeks the sickest i’ve ever been, i returned to school still weak and easily exhausted, but on the mend. (that recovery was a bitch and it took a very long time to feel *myself* again.)

for the following couple weeks, a friend of mine repeatedly dragged me to the nurse’s office for every little thing. every time i looked pale or needed to sit down or if he thought i felt even slightly warm. insisting i was okay never did anything to dissuade him.

‘you might need help,’ was all he’d say.

he has been a lifelong friend and this is one of my favorite memories :) feel free to use this cute lil scenario

(also, this is so eddie kaspbrak)

[swooningdelirium]

not only is death becomes her (1992) an underrated movie, it graced us with *these* images:

god. she’s so beautiful

[swooningdelirium]

temperature taking <3

• a hand on the forehead and thermometer under the tongue at the same time. their temperature hasn’t registered yet, but the poor thing is definitely running a fever.

• a mindless little forehead kiss followed by a second more prolonged forehead kiss followed by “… are you sick?” when they realize their partner is far too warm

• having to check someone’s temperature in their ear while they’ve got a raging ear infection.

“i know it hurts, but you have to be still. you’re burning up and i gotta see how bad it is, okay?”

•sick stubborn character insisting there’s no reason to check their temperature because they don’t have a fever. they’re sure of it. stop asking. but when they zone out for a moment, they come to with a thermometer beeping between their lips.

“one hundred and four?!” their friend exclaims in equal exasperation and horror. “you fucking idiot.”

[swooningdelirium]

everyone loves a character who doesn’t know (or won’t admit) that they’re sick. and for good reason. but there’s something equally sweet about someone who doesn’t hesitate to tell their loved one something’s wrong:

• “i’m a little dizzy… my head is killing me.”

• “i don’t feel so hot.”

• “yeah, i think i’m coming down with something”

• “you think i have a fever?”

• “i woke up a little sniffly and tired, but it’s taken a turn for the worse.”

• “can you come pick me up? … yeah. apparently i’ve got a high fever and they’re sending me home, but i don’t think i can drive like this.”

• “i’m really cold.”

• “i can’t stop coughing. and sneezing. … oh, and shivering.”

• “my whole body hurts.”

maybe this isn’t the first time they have been sick around caretaker. maybe it took some time but now they know they can tell their person when they’re not well. or maybe this is the first time caretaker has seen them like this but the sick one is simply too delirious to keep their guard up. either way awww

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OHOHHOOHHO

the aching softness of someone who wants their forehead felt eventually getting their forehead felt

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And isn’t that command the truest essence of this world, that which makes everything tick? Forward, forward.

The brink of insanity lies at 102 degrees, but not far below, at 100.4, there’s a clearly discernible valley where I wouldn’t mind spending my days. In that band your guard drops, and figures from the past are given access, though not as ghosts. 100.4: a temperature where the body’s ability to stay alive is intact even as your interest in being an alert and informed social being cools, so as long as you can bear to have the past slinking about your legs like a pack of dogs, this valley offers a pleasant lassitude…

100.4, a day of soporific dissolution, the walls thin between the world and me. At 100.4 degrees there’s nothing in me that whispers “forward” anymore. And isn’t that command the truest essence of this world, that which makes everything tick? Forward, forward.

— Ia Genberg, The Details: A Novel (translated by Kira Josefsson) (HarperVia, August 8, 2023)