#downwiththesickness

[elisabeta-darling]

[julieteccleston]

Dec 20, Jan 21, Jan 22 & Jan 23 @tonybasra has been there for me through my good days, bad days and not forgetting my sick days😄 Thanks Tony Sometimes don’t realise the progress I make. Good to look back to help with moving forward. Once I’m rid of this dreadful sickness, I’ll be back at the gym. Hopefully get my appetite back too! My biggest struggle 😂 still very self conscious of how I look🫣 #downwiththesickness #fitness #fitnessjourney #tonybasrafitness #progress #motivation #selfie #firstpost2023 #longwaytogostill https://www.instagram.com/p/Cm7dws2qCLc/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[itsnotyouitslyme]

Embracing the life. Using a 4 week pill organizer for my 6-7 day trip for morning, midday, and evening. I used to look at this and go "this is for old disabled people." Well here I am. No longer in denial and at least channeling type a tendencies into this fight. Link to medication organizer: https://amzn.to/3VkUaZy

[daletrafra]

Paroles de la chanson “Down with the Sickness” de Disturbed

[daletrabr]

Veja a letra da música “Down with the Sickness” de Disturbed

[daletraeng]

See the lyrics for the song “Down With The Sickness” by Disturbed

[oldfatwarlock]

Turns out T-Movie offers a year of Paramount+ with their service. So while I’m down with the ’Rona, I watched Prophecy. Not THE prophecy with Christopher Walken, but plain Prophecy from ’79 with the giant mutant bear. Anyway, gel pen doodle of the titular bear. Was going to try putting a little water color on it but I’m too wiped. #prophecy #70shorrormovies #mutantbear #downwiththesickness #sickwithcovid #sharpiesgel https://www.instagram.com/p/Cn3oMWcuEmX/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[goldenchildminmin]

A small sigh escaped Minho’s lips, for once not plump and wet with lip-gloss or chapstick as he closed the front door after Rankle, the other fae finally leaving because the town was in distress and perhaps he was needed elsewhere. Also, because he had by now spent far too long in the mortal world, way past his usual quota, a fact that worried Minho. But they would surely see each other again soon, worry about the other plaguing them both in this unexpected emergency state the town was in.

In the past hours, he’d tried to get in touch with anyone and everyone he held dear besides Rankle. Realistically he knew that it would take a while to get to everybody, that some if not most would need time before they could pick up, respond, drop by or in any other way announce and let him know how they were but it still filled him with such fretful anxiety that he could hardly keep still.

And on top of it all, no matter how much they tried, neither could make their glamour come back, conceal how they truly looked like so they could come out into the public not looking too different from the mortals they shared this town with. Minho could see himself even in the glassy, reflective surface of the back of his door. Ashen blonde hair a shade impossible for a human to achieve naturally, pointed ears sticking out of the silken strands of it, twitching involuntarily at the sounds that reached them. Large eyes were entirely black, with no whites showing, pupil hidden in the blackness and with each blink, a transparent film would close over them in a side sweep before the regular lids would follow to actually close Minho’s eyes. Tongue that peeked out to give dry lips a quick lick of moisture was a shade so dark that it looked more purple than anywhere near flesh pink.

And his hands, with the addition of an extra fourth knuckle, curled around the door knob completely, long, thin and alien with their flexibility. No matter how he turned, no matter how much he covered up, if there was light in the room, it reflected off the light dusting of golden freckles littered all over his body, which without glamour even makeup wouldn’t be able to cover - only perhaps dull their shine a little. At least the fact that he could still shrink his wings, make them whither and then fold under the skin of his back made things a little bit easier.

Already missing the man he’d just seen off, Minho closed the front door to his luxurious home with a soft click and beep of an automated smart home system. With this sound, he wished he would never have to leave this house again, at least not until this entire situation was long over and forgotten. He couldn’t bear to be seen. Not like this. Not here, where he was foreign.

[magicvet]

Perhaps people would find it strange, but Corey enjoyed the fact that barely anyone had seen him in the Town Center during the Founders’ Day Faire. He had a cup of ice cream, the first of the season, finally the weather improving just enough for the frozen flavors to not bother him. So he enjoyed it in full, just walking around the Faire grounds, people-watching. A familiar face here and there was spotted. Some noticed him and some did not, some he’d exchanged a word or two with, some he didn’t bother pestering on their fun day out. In the end, he clocked out early, like the old man he was, slipping away among the first few people who had elsewhere to be and couldn’t stay until the end.

He avoided any crowds, he avoided any commotion, he even missed the usual traffic jam common for around this time on the streets and on the way to his home in Dillon. When he got home, he could continue on with his routine. He had a meal, leftovers from yesterday’s lunch, had a cup of tea, had a shower. He vacuumed. He cleared out Bob’s outdoor aviary. The large raven with the wingspan of almost four feet greeted him with an imitation of a few eerily human-like sounds as per usual. Though Corey did find it odd that Bob wasn’t as talkative as he could usually be. He watched a show. Someone recommended to him to watch Vikings. He wasn’t feeling it, but since he hated not finishing what he'd started, he would suffer through all seasons. Maybe it would improve. He really should’ve known, the show was called ‘Vikings’ after all. But he secretly hoped that it was a history-heavy show after all. It wasn’t really.

He went to bed early, none the wiser, not turning the TV on for the news today. In the morning he got up with the roosters, showered again, had breakfast and another cup of dark tea. He fed Marlowe, the elegant gray Norwegian forest cat who wasn’t feeling particularly chatty with him either, another oddity he didn’t think much on. He went to work and only there, upon noticing that a few of the staff had called in and wouldn’t make an appearance for their scheduled shifts, did the news of the previous day surprise him. Everyone at the clinic and shelter had their own version and experience of yesterday to tell, and they did so at every corner and in every room at the clinic - the place was practically buzzing with all the stuff Corey had missed. And all Corey could think about was how he didn’t know what to think of it.

[wolfontheloose]

Almost forty-eight hours and counting since Ryden had left his apartment in Descray for the Founders’ Day Faire. Almost forty-eight hours, passing by in a blink. It all felt like he just took one long breath and didn’t let it go until he was standing in the dark little hallway of his place, grey ombre walls closing in around him, finally stepping into a silence that was just his own. He tossed his keys into a bowl of miscellaneous items he kept atop of his shoe cabinet, knowing that he would need it again very soon. He would not linger for long. A loud, croaky meow broke the silence as a dull thud of a small body landing on its paws against wooden floor announced that Ugly had been hanging around the always ajar window in Ryden’s living room, the one that lead out onto the landing of the fire escape stairs between his floor and the next.

The cat trotted over to rub its slightly overweight body against Ryden’s combat boots where the man stood in the hallway, the feline demanding food rather than affection. Ryden sighed, the inhale not at all cleansing or relaxing. Not minding the cat because he would follow him like a shadow far too small to be his own anyway until he got what he wanted, Ryden stepped further into his living room, grabbing a bottle of electrolyte-rich water from the fridge in the tiny kitchenette he had along the way. His body fell heavy against the leather cushions of his couch but didn’t slouch or relax against it, the water bottle cooling a spot against his lap while his fingers worked on fishing his phone out of a back pocket of his jeans.

He took more than half an hour to go through what felt like his entire phonebook. Many did not respond, many lines were busy. But those who did, pack, friends, family or loved ones, would hear from Ryden, either get a phone call or a voicemail and a text message waiting for when they have time to get back to him, tell him they are alright. The pack group chat and messaging system they’ve had was still blowing up, so much so that Ryden had to mute those channels and only accept direct tag alerts. He’d already told them everything he knew, answered all questions as best as he could. Now it was up to everyone to regroup on their own and keep up with any plans made to collectively meet at the Den whenever possible to discuss, provide comfort and support as a community within a community. He was aware that the meetup at the Den right after the Founders’ Day faire wouldn’t be enough. So he planned to keep the Den open 24\7 from here on, with someone always present, in shifts of course, so everyone who decided to walk in for more info would find at least one person from the pack able to be there for them.

Ryden wouldn’t be the one always there for sure, but he will try to be, as much as he could physically achieve it. Almost forty-five minutes later, the phone felt like a hot potato in Ryden’s hands, slick with the sweat of his palms, so he tossed it away on the couch cushion next to him, sick of the device. Ugly jumped up from a spot on the floor he took a nap at, curiously sniffing at the device soaked in Ryden’s scent. It wasn’t food so he lost interest quick.

Ryden had lost too much time and now there was none left for a shower. He’d have to postpone that for another free moment he’d have who knew when. But the T-shirt he had to change, so he ripped the one he had on off, tossing it to land wherever on the floor. On his way to the bedroom, he stopped by the dining space, which never had a proper dining table ever since he’d moved in. Instead, pieces of workout equipment occupied the space by the window, a large, sand-filled punching bag hanging off the ceiling. The weight rack was laden with insane poundage, even Ryden sometimes wondering how it hadn’t gone down to say hi to the downstairs neighbor yet, his floor surprisingly withstanding the weight of freakishly heavy dumbbells. This is why he had two weight racks, just in case, to at least distribute weight evenly.

Expressionless, he watched the items he so easily worked with before, cogs turning in his head although it seemed like no one might be home to produce thought in this complex space called Ryden’s mind. He had to check himself, so he would know how to proceed from here on. So he reached for the heaviest weight, something he knew he was always able to lift even one-handed. He made it budge only enough to make it roll off the rack, Ryden narrowly missing it fall on his foot and thus crippling him. He stared at the stupid thing, useless on the floor where it would stay until he was able to move it again. If he was ever able to move it again. He always thought he’d be happy if all of this supernatural-ness was suddenly taken away from him, if he ever reverted to being human again, just the way he’d been born as. But instead, he got mixed feelings.

An indignant sniff flared his nostrils and he gave the equipment a disgusted look before he turned on his heels and went to the bedroom to put a new shirt on and pack a bag he’d dump at Mars’ place, just to have some extra stuff available there when needed. He did not have time for this shit. He had to get a move on. Shit to do, problems to fix. We’ll cry about it later. Later, that would never come, because though boys like him didn’t whine.

[amyinnile]

The Founders’ Day had been an event and a town holiday Amy had been attending her whole life, mostly with family, friends or coworkers. If she were honest, something happening for it at the town’s center was nothing new. She’d therefore missed quite a few in her lifetime, especially when she was out of the country. This one she’d missed for no special reason, mostly for a day off which was to be used to stay in, do chores and then just do nothing. She played loud music while she loaded up the dishwasher and unloaded her laundry. She drank wine out of the fancy glassware, the fine crystal she kept for special guests. She rearranged one of the bookshelves in her office and had a nap, with a quick, pleasant ‘date’ prior with a new little device she’d bought weeks ago but forgotten about, leaving it forgotten in her undergarment drawer. It was a short nap after which she craved a snack her fridge didn’t have.

So out to the store she went, honey blonde-dyed hair tied up in a bun far too messy for her tastes but for a trip to the store, it would have to do. It was a bit of a walk around the block to find someone who hadn’t closed up for Founders’ Day, but there were a few and she was in her running shoes so she didn’t mind the trip, fresh air chasing the remnant doziness of her nap away. Meandering between the stalls and shelves with the shopping basket hanging off the bend of her arm, Amy browsed idly, stopping curiously when she found that they had canned mimosas. That was new. But she really shouldn’t, she’d already had wine today. She had not even noticed a curl of lime green mist rolling over the not-so-clean floors of the store, creeping up at her heels like a wraith reaching for its next victim.

She turned, aiming to go around a corner and slip into the next aisle but her step slowed when she thought she'd smelled something, like passing by someone vaping on a fresh, scentless cloud. It was so strange and Amy gave it one long moment of thought because hardly anyone was in the store with her. In the end, she simply shook her head, continuing on. Until, barely a few steps after, she felt a sort of a scratching feeling in the back of her throat, like that soreness right before you officially realize you’d come down with a cold. But it kept tightening on her, much too fast and sudden to just be a cold. She wasn’t even sure if she could get sick like that anymore, she hadn’t in the past four years even though common cold was a common occurrence before.

Rubbing her sore neck, her hand reached up to run over her face as with this initial discomfort she also felt a migraine building up. Her fingers came off slick with a very fine sheen of sweat. She was starting to burn up. Now, a spark of panic was setting in too. What was happening to her? Her lips parted, dry, no saliva in her mouth, skin over them cracking and the basket she held dropped to the floor with an unceremonious spill of everything she carried inside. To her left, the cold radiating from the fridges felt so good, so inviting. She barely registered this impulse, this undeniable need for water. She tore open a fridge door, grabbed the first bottle of water her greedy hands could find and chugged. Chugged until she downed it. And then she went for another, and another, empty water bottles falling onto the tiled floor with a dull clatter of plastic.

Startled by a noise and delayed only because they took a moment to go fetch a coworker working in the back to come over with them to check what in the world was going on, the few of the staff working at the store found that Amy had ripped out most of the shelving within one of the fridges out so she could squeeze herself in instead, curled up as small as she could get, soaked with the water spilling over while she’d been chugging. Now silent tears of fear and outrage streaked her flushed cheeks, weak arms hugging her knees as she helplessly looked up at the startled people through fogged-up glass, not even daring to utter a weak ‘help me’, lest her breath made her lose even more precious water.

[dijidweeeb]

Motivational Music in the Morning ... #Distubed, #DownWithTheSickness ... from the album #TheSickness [Official Audio Track] (2000) #MMitM1

[jigsrock71]

"Ultimate Clash: Frieza, Android 17, and Jiren's Battle Royale in Dragon...

[andylondonsandiego]

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[true-gods-of-war]

"I'm better" Courtesy of @vasiliossotiropoulos1 #bungie #hashtag #power #powerful #powerplay #3peat #downwiththesickness #playstation5 #playstation #pc #pcgaming #photography #game #gamerlife #gamer #gamergirl #gamers #disturbed #xseries #xboxone #xbox #xboxseriesxmemes #destiny #destiny2memes #destiny2 #destiny2clips #imbetter #imbetta #truegods #truegodsofwar https://www.instagram.com/p/CNQ5oL0H97t/?igshid=jqnroo1ewbmp

[bustacell]

Can you feel that?

Ah, shit

Oh, ah, ah, ah, ah

Oh, ah, ah, ah, ah

oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh