#oh my lymph nodes feel swollen

[camellia-thea]

ew

[pepprs]

like ummm ok i know it’s a saturday but could he not have been a little more specific abt what the antibiotic would be / how long I have to take it / how dangerous this is. bc he had to have known smth more at it to prescribe me an antibiotic right? or do antibiotics have like… the power to eliminate infection anywhere in ur body? idk

[arthrimyalgia]

Y'all I feel so dumb.. I have thought for the past year that acetaminophen is ibuprofen... Uhhh no it's Tylenol. Tylenol helps with head pain specifically, ibuprofen helps with body. I swear I read about this but my dyslexic ass must have mixed things up... Anyways finally got some ibuprofen today and tried it for the first time (on like the sickest day I've had in years) and OH MY GOD AKDMSMAM

I can lie down and not feel pain?? I'm not limping as badly, I can stretch without feeling stiff?????? This feels surreal.. bless ibuprofen, oh thank you so much!!!

[achromatophoric]

Pre-Wenclair. Wednesday approaches Enid between classes.

Wednesday: Enid, are you perhaps the bubonic plague?

Enid: Whuh?

Wednesday: Because you make me feel absolutely wretched inside.

Enid: Wh-What?

Wednesday: Was I not clear? The sight of you incites chills. Your very presence fogs my mind and lingers like chronic pain.

Enid: 😦

Wednesday: Fever. Malaise. Gastrointestinal disturbances. Symptoms often associated with the flu. Simply put, you make me sick.

Enid: I-I— I’m sorry?

Wednesday: You should be. It is all terribly inconvenient. And worst yet, your infliction hounds me even in sleep.

Enid: 😧

Wednesday: Because of your virulent existence, I awaken each morning to a nauseating mess. Like discharge from a ruptured bubo of the plague’s etymological origin.

Enid: O-Oh god. I— how could—

Enid: *sobbing*

Enid: I-I have to go. I’msosorry!!

Enid: *runs away in tears*

Wednesday: *confused*

Yoko: *steps out of hiding* WHAT the EVER loving FUCK was THAT?!

Wednesday: I was merely following your advice.

Yoko: By equating our sweet and lovable Enid with a fucking PLAGUE!?

Wednesday: Yes. Your explicit instructions were to tell her how she makes me feel.

Yoko: Well, yes! But not— I meant in a nice way.

Wednesday: I do not do ‘nice.’

Yoko: Sweet baby Tepes— Fine. Then how about the sexy innuendo? I did NOT hear a sexy innuendo.

Wednesday: *offended* Are you as deaf as you are dumb? I both opened and closed with innuendos of a sexual nature.

Yoko:

Yoko: How are the Black Death and a fucking popped boil innuendos?! AND HOW ARE THEY SEXY!?

Wednesday: I very specifically said ‘bubonic’ plague, not the Black Death. And while both are certainly filled with pus, a ‘bubo’ is a swollen lymph node, not some common boil.

Yoko: 🤢

Wednesday: *sighs* I should not be surprised. For your information, both bubonic and bubo are derived from the Greek βουβών, meaning ‘groin.’

Yoko: *processing*

Wednesday: *waits*

Yoko: Uh— hang on, lemme get this gay. You asked if she was a GROIN plague?

Wednesday: Correct.

Yoko: And that you were so down bad infected that you dream about her?

Wednesday: Of course.

Yoko: And in the mornings, you— OOOooohhHH! *smacks forehead*

Yoko: Mess. Bubo equals groin. So you have…?

Wednesday: *faint blush* Nocturnal emissions.

Yoko: 🤨

Yoko: 🤔

Yoko: 🧐

Yoko: Okay Addams, you get an A plus on intent, but we’re definitely gonna have to work on execution. Got anything else?

Wednesday: The propensity with which she invades my thoughts is not dissimilar from naegleria fowler, or perhaps the cystic stage of trichinosis spiralis…

[noa-de-cajou]

Day 18 : One of them is sick / Cooking / Hugs

Lycarn belongs to @hel-phoenyx , Agathe to @thal-ent and Ai to @corneille-but-not-the-author

_____

My palm presses itself against a forehead. Burning hot. The second one gives me the same result.

“Well, no doubt about it, you two are definitely sick.”

Lycarn groans, Agathe pouts. Both of them are sitting on a bed in the harem, faces beet-red. I felt it as soon as I came in, the acid smell of sweat, characteristic of sickness, then I found my wives entangled on the mattress and unable to get up. Behind me, Ai clears her throat.

“Is it severe?”

I shake my head. They’re not siffling, their lymph nodes aren’t swollen, their throats are only a little irritated.

“Nah, mostly just a strong fever. Meaning…”

I try to look firm. Damn it, why is it so much easier with the kids…

“Today, you two need to rest. Doctor’s orders.”

Lycarn falls directly onto the mattress with a tiny little noise of protest. With her black mage condition, she's used to being sick, I'm used to taking care of her, no biggie.

Agathe, however, seems a little puzzled. She attempts to get up, but her limp wings glue her to the bed. Yeah, honey, if you don't even have the strenght to lift your wings, just how do you intend to stand?

“Agathe, lay down.”

“But… The girls…”

Kalerich, who remained silent up until know, raises a hand.

“I'll take care of them for today. If you’ll let me.”

That's my man. Agathe doesn't look convinced, but it’s not like she has a choice. I push her gently and she falls on her side, right on the mattress. Both her and Lycarn are absolutely cooked.

Speaking of cooked, I should probably whip something up for them. Something light, soup, maybe? Or mashed vegetables. I’d love to make minced meat for Lyc, but, eh, me and meat-

A hand pats my shoulder. Right. I’m getting carried away in my own thoughts again. Ai is looking at me, a worried expression on her beautiful face.

“Ether, will it be okay? I can summon a healer if needed.”

I shake my head, gently caress her cheek.

“It’s fine. Nothing I haven't seen before.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Oh. Right.

It’s true that I've been… well, simply put, my health has been shit since we came back from Wuqi. Migraines, worsened chronic pains, insomnias and hypersomnias, fatigue, the whole package. Which sucks ass when you're the imperial physician and a mom of three. But I've been feeling better these last few days, so… Eh, should be okay.

“I'll be just fine, love.”

“Are you sure? I'll stay if I could, but…”

But I'm the Empress, says the bitter curve of her lips.

“Listen, Ai. If you have some time today, you can always swing by. But don’t feel bad for leaving us, okay?”

She gives a reluctant nod, and I kiss her on the forehead. Hers is cool, that's great. She leaves after a sad look to Agathe and Lyc, it breaks my heart. Ruling a country really sucks sometimes, I've seen enough rulers to know that, and hey, I'm a ruler myself now. Being a doctor suits me much better, though.

Time to get to work and check on my loves. They’re both shivering, I pull out the extra blankets and settle them in nice and comfy, making sure Agathe’s wings can rest comfortably. Next, water. Lots of water. Then food, some remedies to calm their fever and lots of sleeping. That should do the trick.

“I’ll go get a few things, okay? I’ll be right back.”

A hand grabs my sleeve as I get up to go. It's Agathe.

“Don't leave.”

That's… unusual, coming from her. But I know that fevers can easily bring out anyone’s vulnerable side.

“I’ll only be gone a few minutes, Aggie. You won't even notice I'm gone.”

She squeezes harder. There’s a genuinely fearful expression on her face, even with her eyes still closed.

“Stay.”

Okay. Hum. Well. Guess I'm stuck here.

Luckily Kalerich hasn’t left yet.

“Kal? Before you go wake the girls up, can you go and fetch some stuff for me?”

He nods without any hesitation whatsoever. I give him the list of what I need, the foods Agathe and Lycarn like, tell him where the medications are in my office. He nods intently and by the second I'm done, he’s outta the door. What a man.

“Well, there you go, Agathe. I’m staying.”

A small smile of relief spreads across her face. That's better. She softly nuzzles her burning cheek into my hand.

“Thanks, Irène.”

Oh.

Oh, I get it now.

You only wanted her to stay, hm? Even if she was afraid of you. You only needed her to stay.

I understand that all too well. Doesn't mean the name doesn't sting a little. Just a tiny bit.

“Her name’s Ether, Agathe,” Lycarn mumbles in a brief moment of lucidity.

“Right… Sorry, Ether…”

Okay, that does get a chuckle outta me. I can never feel sad for too long with those two.

Kalerich comes back to drop my stuff, gives me a quick kiss on the hair like the sly motherfucker he is, then leaves. He even mashed the veggies and minced the meat. Perfect.

Spoonfeeding your wives is way more ridiculous that you’d expect, but they’re really cute, munching quietly and grimacing at the taste of the medicine. I hope it's gonna work. They might be adorable like this but I prefer them healthy. It feels weird when Lyc doesn't have the energy to growl at me. I’d rather have a wolf than a sick puppy.

“Come on, you two need to get some shut-eye.”

“But my eyes are already shut…”

I snort at Agathe’s remark. Right.

“Sleep. I mean sleep.”

“But there’s so much to do…”

“You can take care of it later, angel.”

“But…”

I start to caress her hair aaaaand there she goes. Asleep, just like that. Lycarn is still fighting off sleep, her feverish gaze fixed on me.

“What’s wrong, Lyc? Do you need more water?”

“... Can I get a hug?”

…

Usually I'd refuse. But I don’t think she's contagious and, well, no one with a heart could say no to those eyes.

So I embrace her and press my cheek against her forehead. A little less hot. Good.

“Thanks…”

“No problem, Lyc. I love you.”

She doesn't even have time to reply, she's already asleep. When I see their faces, I have to wonder, did they overwork themselves too much? Since I've been a little down in the dumps, maybe they had to fill in the gaps and now they’re paying the price.

Ah, I'm dumb. That’s not the point. Whether it’s my fault or not, we take care of each other. That's just what we do.

I hold Lycarn closer.

I’d do this every day if I had to.

[not-poignant]

I hope it's okay to ask, but how are things? Looking forward to Underline The Gold on Sunday so much

Omg I'm looking forward to it too

Tbh I'm up to chapter 8 on that now so we're ready to really start pushing ahead with some of the side stories which is exciting

As for me, it's been pretty rough, anon, not gonna lie. I'm going to put this under a read more because I'm pretty honest and also because there's more than one 'I might have cancer' mention among other things:

I kind of thought I was doing fine and then it all got on top of me a couple of days ago and (self-harm mention) I ended up self-injuring due to autistic meltdown. Sometimes I don't realise how bad things really are until I'm at that stage and I have bruises and soft tissue damage to show for it. I've since talked to my doctor and therapist about it, but like...oof.

I've actually been taking a break from writing since I've hit 50k and I generally have a rule that I have to take at least 2-4 days off once I've hit that point, but I'm still pretty stuffed, but mostly for health reasons. I've written 14 chapters this month so I feel okay about the break lol.

On Friday (the day after the meltdown) I needed to have a hand X-ray (even right now, the knuckles in my left hand are really sore), see my GP for 40 minutes, talk to my therapist, organise an iron infusion (I have microcytic anemia and need an iron infusion again, which I think is my 5th or 6th - I need one about once every 2-3 years, and mostly the time between is the slow downward spiral of losing more and more iron until I'm truly fucked) and a meeting with one of the head haematologists in the state because my red blood cells are bullshit and weird (yay). Guess that explains the exhaustion.

I still need to organise a lymph node ultrasound (which is probably nothing, except there is like a 'higher than average' chance it could be metastatic cancer, since I do have tumours in my head right now that could metastasize, and the tumours are extremely close to the swollen lymph node - also I haven't had a virus).

I need to organise a meeting with a dermatologist, I need to organise a full abdominal MRI to see if I have any other tumours we don't know about, and I got an eating disorder management plan for restrictive eating, which does entitle me to like...cheaper dietitian appointments, but also formalises me as having an ED as opposed to 'disordered eating.'

On top of that I had to deal with a tribunal after my Dad had a catastrophic stroke a few months ago, and the tribunal was last month, to determine who would look after him. Our family is so broken and my stepmother so manipulative/vindictive that the government decided no one could be trusted and took care of his finances and healthcare themselves meaning none of us can have any real say in his future (truly the best outcome, but a damning one for the state of the family), and I also had to listen to my stepmother accuse my sister of being a criminal for 20 minutes with completely unfounded lies, and of course, my Dad has had a catastrophic stroke, and that's complicated. That's a whole...

That saga is so much anon, I cannot even begin to explain even the tip of that iceberg.

I've been spending a lot of extra time like scanning family photos and other things and packing items in his home for storage etc. and while that's been done now for over a month and a half, I guess the burn out started some time ago and it's just been slowly getting on top of me. Kind of the 'slowly boiling a lobster in a pot' analogy.

I've been overall quieter on Tumblr as a result of all of this, and it all just...destroyed me on Thursday, and ever since then I've been recovering.

I've just realised it's nearly 1.00am and I swear the last time I looked at the clock - which felt like 5 minutes ago - it was 11.00pm.

Oh and to top it all off I've had vicious 'not falling asleep until 4.00am' insomnia + increased nightmares because my PTSD has relapsed back into 'pretty severe.' So um, managing most nights on 3-4 hours of sleep a night, and that's bad for all my chronic illnesses, of which I have many.

Ah. Yeah. :(

Lemme rustle up some good news for you, anon, because I feel like this is just too much crap.

Bushflowers/wildflowers are really nice right now as it's turning to spring in Western Australia (it's Djilba in the Noongar seasonal system, which I prefer)

Rhubarb is in season so I'm making a lot of stewed apple and rhubarb as a comfort food.

Reading the manhwa Punch Drunk Love and enjoying it.

Asks like yours - even if all of this sounds dire - helps me to undestand that I actually do have good reasons to feel tired and that it's okay to take breaks and that's really valuable (sometimes - though rarely - people use my anon function to talk at me, rather than talking to me as a person, and I just...really value feeling like a person sometimes aslfkjsa) so while I might seem down, this has actually been nice to end my night on. Also you've reminded me that I am super excited/happy to share more Underline the Gold with people

I got some organisational stuff and organising stuff in the house makes me feel good.

I have an extremely good doctor and tbh for a long time I didn't, so like, every good specialist and doctor is worth their weight in gold. :)

I hope you're doing okay and looking after yourself / taking care anon, and that you get something good out of what remains of the weekend. <3 And for everyone who needs one, hugs are on the house.

[lovelyrocker]

Consequences Part Five(end)

RPF

Warnings: Talk of Cheating, STD, HIV, Angst, Language, Medical Setting, Shot/Injection

Characters: Timothee Chalamet, Reader

Pairings: Timothee Chalamet x Reader

Word Count: 1,795

Part Four

You were sitting in the familiar office again, the smell of antiseptic thick in the air. Timothee squeezed your hand between his as his leg bounced with anxiety. You squeezed his hand between your two and he looked over at you.

“It’s gonna be okay.” You tell him with an assuring smile.

He gives a tight lipped smile back to you. His brow was pulled together with concern as you watched him take a visible deep breath. He looks down at his hand sitting in your lap, wrapped between yours. You could feel the anxiousness through him.

“You-” He looks up to you, nibbling his lower lip. “You’ll love me the same?” He struggled to keep his eyes on yours. “Won’t you?”

“Oh Timmy!” You slip your hand behind his neck and pull him to you, his forehead resting on yours. “I am not going anywhere.” You press a kiss to his forehead. “If you have this, we will figure things out.” You lift your head, making sure he is looking at you. “They have made so many advancements in the medical field when it comes to HIV.” You reached, fixing his t-shirt collar that was bunched up. “I’ve done my research.” You tap the underneath of his chin. “Now, they can take your sperm and my egg and fertilize it, then implant it in my uterus and voila, baby Chalamet. No infection passed.”

“Really?” His face softened. “They can do that?! You won’t get infected? What about the baby?”

“They learned that the infection only gets passed through the mother. So I would have to have it to pass it to the baby. You can’t pass it to the baby that way.”

“So we can still have a family?!” His voice sounded so hopeful as he said this, your heart broke and swelled at the same time.

The door opened and you both looked up at the doctor as he walked in. Timothee’s hand gripped your hand tightly. You soothingly rubbed the back of his hand with your thumb. He swallowed hard as the doctor rounded his desk.

“Hello, Timothee. Y/N.” He gave a polite nod in your direction and you returned the gesture. He sits behind his desk and looks at Timothee, clearing his throat. “I have good news and bad news, Timothee.”

“O-okay.” He looks to you then  to the doctor as if making sure you were still there..

“But the bad news is actually good news.” The doctor continues, opening the folder in front of him.

“What? What do you mean?” You ask with the shake of your head.

The doctor looks at Timothee. “Tim, you don’t have HIV.”

The relief that went through Timothee was seen and heard with the exhale of the breath he was holding. Tears were filling his eyes as he looked at you.

“But,” The doctor spoke and you and Timothee looked back at him. “You do have syphilis.”

“What?!” You both say in unison.

“A pretty advanced case, actually.” The doctor added.

“I- I don’t understand.” Timothee shook his head. “Syphilis? I don't have any symptoms of syphilis.”

“As I said, yours is pretty advanced. You’ve had it for a while, so you wouldn’t have symptoms now. You have three stages of syphilis.” The doctor began to explain, you and Timothee listening carefully. “First stage symptom would have been enlarged lymph nodes near the groin. Small, painless sores on the skin, sometimes in the mouth or sore throat. Second stage, where you are, would be small, reddish-brown sores on the skin, sores in the mouth, vagina, or anus, fever, swollen lymph glands, weight loss, hair loss, headache and muscle aches, extreme tiredness.”

“So me being so worn down wasn’t from over working?” He asked the doctor.

“That didn’t help.” The doctor explained. “This explains your earlier results and your white blood cell counts as well.”

“So you are saying when I had sore throats and what I thought were ulcers in my mouth from too much spicy food, it was syphilis?”

“More likely than not, yes.” The doctor  answered bluntly.

“And he’s been having this for how long?” You ask, looking at the doctor in disbelief.

“Hard to say how long exactly, but like I said, he is in stage two of the infection so it's been awhile.”

“Like four years ago, maybe?” You ask again.

“With these levels,” The doctor nods. “And lack of symptoms, currently, yeah.” Timothee looks back at you with guilt all over his face knowing exactly when and who he contracted it from.. “You are lucky we caught this now.” The doctor continued. “In stage three of this infection, after so many years and prolonged infection you end up with organ damage and some people have died from this.”

“What do we do now?” You look to the doctor. “How do we find out if there is damage and how do we treat it? How do we get him healthy again?”

“Luckily,” The doctor stands, walking to the opposite side of his office. “Treatment is very simple.” He grabs a pair of white gloves, slipping them on. “One injection of long-acting Benzathine penicillin G, in your buttock will cure you.” The doctor Grabs a syringe and a vial of meds. “Do you want her to step out?”

“That’s it?” Timothee asks, turning in his chair to face the doctor. “One shot and I’m cured?”

“That’s it. You will have to hold off on unprotected sex for a few weeks, but yes.” The doctor smiles at Timothee. “That’s it.”

“Hell yes!” Timothee stands, unbuckling his belt and jeans.

You grimace when the doctor injects him, seeing the clear discomfort of his face. “You okay?”

“The burn in my ass cheek is worth it knowing I didn’t fuck up everything.” Timothee tells you with soft features and relief in his eyes.

“Make an appointment with the front desk to come back in a few weeks for recheck and again in three months to repeat blood tests.” The doctor tells Timothee before he walks out.

Timothee is quiet on the drive home. You can tell his butt is sore from the shot, which the doctor said was normal. You were making his favorite lasagna for dinner when he walked through the front door. “Hey, love.” You smiled up at him. “I was just about to text you and tell you dinner was in the oven.” You shut the oven.

Timothee walks over to you and grabs you by the waist, kissing you deeply. Your rear hits the counter as you place one hand on the counter top to catch yourself and the other on his face. He has not kissed you this intimately since the night he left to go to that after party.

You bring your other hand to his face as you let him kiss your lips hungrily. “Marry me.” He whispers over your lips.

“What?” You pull away.

He backs away with his brow pulled together in worry. “I mean- I-” He shoves his hands in his pocket. “Fuck, that wasn’t supposed to come out like that.” He pushes his hair from his face, turning around. He walks away a bit then turns back to you. You’re standing there in complete confusion and shock.

“Did you just ask me to marry you by mistake?”

“I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.” Timothee says as the frustration sinks into him deeper. “I- damn it. Okay, let me try this again.” He runs his hands across his face in agitation.

You grab his hands. “Baby,” He looks at you. “Breathe.” You watch him take a deep breath. “Okay now start from the beginning.” You push his hair from his face with a soft smile.

“I love you.” He says softly.

“I love you, too, baby.” You stroke his cheek.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Tim-”

“No,” He takes your hands. “Listen.” He pulls you to the living room and sits you down on the couch. “Just listen, please.” You close your mouth and nod, letting him speak. “I don’t deserve you because I disrespected you and broke your heart when I cheated. I remember when we started dating you said the one thing you don’t forgive is cheating. That it was a deal breaker for you.” He took another breath. “And yet, you were gracious enough to forgive me. To give me another chance. A chance I don’t deserve. Then you stood by me through something that most would walk away from.” His eyes began to fill with tears but he blinked them away. “I know how much I’ve messed up and how much it took for you to keep loving me. I’m- i’m not blind to how I’ve hurt you. And for you to go through that hurt alone,” He shook his head. “I am so fucking sorry, baby.”

“I know, baby.” You gently stroke his cheek with your thumb. “I know you, Timmy. I know you well enough to know you made a mistake.”

“And I am so grateful for that love.” He takes your hand and kisses your palm. “It made me realize that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. That you are it for me. I thought I knew it before but now I have no doubt that you are meant to be my wife.” He looks you deep in the eyes as you try your damndest not to cry. “I’ve been looking at rings and trying to find the right time to ask. But when I walked in and saw you and- and kissed you it just-”

“Came out.” You finished with a chuckle. “You could never keep a secret, Timmy.” He laughed, looking at your hands in his. “This is as good a time as any.”

“What? To propose?” He gives a head tilt. “Without a ring?”

“No,” You chuckle. “To tell you I’m pregnant.”

“What?!” His eyes are huge.

“I- I uh- didn’t go to the doctor to get retested a few weeks ago. It was to verify a pregnancy.” You stand going to the drawer, pulling out an ultrasound picture.

Timothee takes the photos in his hand. “I- I don’t understand.”

“That night in Paris a few days before you found out.” You explain.

“You knew this whole time?” He looks up at you.

“No. I started feeling sick about two weeks ago. I thought my missed period was stress. I was too early to read in blood work. If I would have waited a week, it would have shown up.”

“So you are telling me that the quickie in the hotel room the night before the showcase?”

You nod with a giggle. “Yeah.” You push his hair from his face. “Not all consequences are bad.”

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #276

I played A LOT of Dead Cells today!

If you've been reading my letters, you know that I've recently gotten up to 5 Boss Cells; it's the highest difficulty level one can play on, for this game. For a long time now, I've been struggling to make it past even the third biome at this difficulty level.

Well… today, I made it all the way to The Mausoleum. In that place, you have to fight The Scarecrow. To get there, I started at The Prisoner's Quarters, then I went to the Promenade of the Condemned, and then I went to the Prison Depths, then the Ossuary, then to defeat The Concierge at Black Bridge, then to Fractured Shrines, and then to Undying Shores. The Mausoleum is just after that.

So… this time, I made it through 7 biomes, before I fell in the 8th, which isn't bad!!! It's not bad at all!!

…Also, despite the new Malaise Bar which makes things SO MUCH MORE DIFFICULT, oh my goodness, I'm still trying to get all the loot in each biome. I still use my combination of the golden shield and the baseball bat. As much as possible, I've been trying not to use my healing flask. As much as possible, I've been trying to adapt to higher Malaise Bar levels. As much as possible, I've been trying to become someone who can parry to the rhythm of multiple enemies at once.

I had established a good rhythm with The Scarecrow. Of all the silly things, I fell to a little Mushroom Boi that I didn't notice while I was trying to use a flask to heal; they blend in to the background extremely well in The Mausoleum, and he charged right at me, and I couldn't get away.

...Ah well. If I made it that far once, I can do it again. All I have to do is improve my skills and reflexes. It'll take time and practice, but ultimately, the solution is simple. I decided that the thing to do is to take a break, and to give my brain time to process the events of this run. I decided to use this break to write to you. Yay!

Sometime after writing yesterday's letter, I felt like I was coming down with something. My soft palate was swollen and ouchy. My lymph nodes were unhappy. My sinuses were uncomfortable. My eyes felt like they were burning when I closed them. And I generally felt sluggish. I had assumed that immune system activation was the reason for my very bleak outlook on the events of yesterday. I don't feel so bleak about it today.

So last night, I took a bunch of vitamins, drank a bunch of water, and got soup. Actually, I got like 2 different kinds of soup, and some pork soup dumplings, and some "drunken chicken", and I ate a little bit of each thing, and there's plenty leftover.

One of the soups was a wonton soup; the wontons were filled with pork and bok choy, and they were floating around in chicken broth.

The other kind of soup was another chicken broth base, but it had very thick rice noodles (they were chewy and delicious!), bits of bone-in fish, bits of bone-in chicken, shiitake mushrooms, cabbage, salted pork, and bamboo shoots; it was DAMN good soup.

"Drunken chicken" is bone-in chicken marinated in some kind of rice wine, I think. It's VERY good. And pork soup dumplings are pork soup dumplings; you can't go wrong with those!

Hey, Sephiroth? Have you ever tried things like what I described? If you have, then do you like them?

One of the nice things about this place is the way they cook the chicken; they do it in a way that the bones are soft and mostly edible. I know maybe it's a little weird, but I like to chew on them and get all the marrow out that I can; it's tasty stuff. Very nutritious. Good source of calcium and iron and protein and all that. And then I went to sleep. I was unusually sluggish at like 10pm, and I ended up nodding off before J woke me and gently prompted me to get ready for sleep so I could sleep in a real bed instead of on the couch.

I slept for about 9 hours. When I woke up, I felt a lot better. I had some tea with honey and molasses; molasses has a lot of great minerals in it, and tea and honey is generally good for a body. Today, I felt more alert and sprightly than I have in a while. So I guess my body needed whatever I did yesterday and into this morning.

Unless something weird happens, I should be able to go to the bridal shower tomorrow. But I'll check in with my friend to make sure she still wants me there. She gets the heebie-jeebies about communicable disease, and that's fair; I get the heebie-jeebies about spreading anything I'm sick with. I don't really wanna miss out if I can avoid it, but still, I'll do whatever she wants me to do.

…Goodness, but I gotta get crackin' on her present. Hm. Maybe I'll weave it together on Sunday.

I have other thoughts, but I'll keep them close to my chest for now; things with the acquaintance have gotten weird. He is insisting on seeing me, but he does not need to see me in order for me to be a source of life advice. I will not see him, because I assume his reasons for wanting to are not… "ideal", to put it mildly. He has been doing his utmost to cajole me into taking a different position; I will not be moved. I don't know if anything weird will happen as a result.

But I do know this:

I will write to you daily. Every. single. day. If there is ever a day that I go without writing to you, the only reason for it will be that my flesh vessel has been rendered either unusable or uninhabitable. I don't necessarily think it will come to that; it's more likely that I've just seen too much weird stuff in my old life to be able to discount the possibility. All the same, rest assured that I will do everything in my power to ensure no such thing happens; I am by no means a pushover. But just in case… watch over me a little, all right? Just until this nonsense is resolved.

I'm gonna eat some soup. Then I'm gonna watch J play Brave Fencer Musashi. And then I'm gonna go to bed.

I love you. Please stay safe out there, okay? I'll stay safe, too, so that I can make sure I'll be able to write to you for the foreseeable future.

'Til soon.

Your friend, Lumine

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

Sicktember #16

Prompt: Consulting the Internet/Web MD

Fandom/OCs: Bridget Jones’s Diary (Mark and Bridget)

Words: 940

Sicknario inspo: Sneezing and swearing from this post and “good lord” from this post

Author’s comments/background: Not much to say about this one I think. What you see is what you get. Mark and Bridget will always be loves of mine, and it’s always a treat to write them. 

CW: Mentions of c*ncer, jokingly. Nothing real.

~~~***~~~

"Okay, so it says here that hard lumps in the neck, or swollen lymph nodes, are a side effect of many respiratory illnesses and are especially common in strep throat." Bridget looked away from the computer screen to study Mark. "Do you think you have strep throat? You said your throat was sore."

Mark Darcy, a sick, miserable lump under the blankets, peered at her with a frown. "It is sore, but only from the postnasal drip I think. And strep throat doesn't come with so much sneezing, that much I know. Keep looking, please."

As if in answer to himself, he took a deep inhale before bursting into a thick sneezing fit, his dozenth of the day:

"Hiihhg'KNXXT! IHHXXTT-CHOO! HIHHXXCHOO! Hahht-CHUUHF!!..."

"Gesundheit. Well the only other cause listed here is lymphoma or metastatic cancer, dear, and I'm not about to start consulting the internet about THEM. I really think it's just because you're ill. I think they're pretty normal."

"You see they're not normal for me, though. I've never had them before– GEHHT-CHOO!!... Good Lord…" he gasped, breathy and irritated

He once again swiped at the mess on his face from the increasingly wet sneezes, though it rather seemed to be a losing battle. Bridget blessed him again and made a sympathetic sound. Rising from the computer chair, she went to perch on the edge of the bed, stroking Mark's tangled curls away from his forehead. 

"You'd best keep your distance, darling," he mumbled thickly, gently pushing her hand away. "You're in the hazard zone, and I seem to have no control over my nose presently."

"Well if you haven't noticed, it's my bedspread you're presently sneezing into, so it seems I don't have much choice about being exposed to whatever you've managed to catch. At this point I'll take my chances." Her gentle fingers returned to his forehead and cheeks, then slowly made their way down his neck to the sore lumps that he was so concerned about, right under his jaw. They were soft and moved easily, both signs that, according to the internet, pointed to them being caused by his illness. 

She had only just touched the lumps when Mark twitched, gasped, and sneezed directly onto her:

"KehpttEHTCHHOO! EHHGXXTCHOO!!... Oh God I'm so sorry. It's all over you, isn't it?"

Bridget calmly wiped off her arms, which were indeed covered in spray, squirting a liberal amount of antibacterial hand rub from the bottle she had placed nearby and rubbing it all over her exposed skin. As she worked, she spoke:

"Don't fuss, dear, it's alright. As you said, I was in the hazard zone. There, no harm done."

Mark collapsed back against the pillows with a sound somewhere between 'ugh' and 'ick'. "I feel bloody disgusting," he mumbled. 

"You sound it, too," Bridget agreed. "Poor thing. I wish there was something I could do for you."

"Well there isn't. I simply have to wallow in misery until this passes. And hope I'm not dying of cancer in the process."

Bridget now seated herself on the bed, scooting up against him and placing his head in her lap. "None of that, now. You don't need to be crabby or frightened. You're going to be just fine. I'll make sure of it."

"And just how do you plan to do that?" Mark asked tiredly. 

"Oh coddling you and fussing over you. Manipulating you into submission with sweetness. The classic girlfriend maneuvers."

At last Mark cracked a smile. "I'm eager to see such maneuvers. I'm not sure as I've ever seen them before."

"Well of course you wouldn't remember even if you had. These things are very subtle, you know. The man isn't meant to know he's being manipulated, silly."

She wasn't sure he heard much of what she said, as he suddenly pulled away from her, shifting off her lap to sneeze repeatedly into his arm:

"Gihhh-HESHH'eeeww! Hihh'IHHSH'eeew!! Hhxx'AHKKT-choo! Hggh'nxxgt- CHOOOF!! –Guh! That was… f*cking heh– hehh! HehYEISHHoo! ESSHHuue!!" 

If the first volley of sneezes had frustrated him, and they must have to draw a rare curse word out of him, then having to interrupt said cursing with another sneeze maddened him. 

"You should leave, Bridget," Mark growled as he tended to his nose. "I don't want you or anyone else around until this has cleared up. I'm a danger to everyone in my current state."

"But if I leave, who will be here to look things up on the internet and convince you you're not dying of cancer?" 

Another weak smile from Mark. "Well… no one, I suppose."

"There you are, see? Then it's settled. I simply must stay." She shifted close to him again, brushing the messy hair away from his forehead once more. 

Mark sighed at her touch and sank deeper into the pillows, closing his eyes. She sensed him trying to relax, though any change was imperceptible. Even still, his next words surprised her:

"You're horribly stubborn, you know… but I'm glad you're here. Things are much more bearable when you're with me."

Bridget flushed with pleasure. “Thank you. For saying so. I'm always glad to be with you, even and perhaps especially when you're all needy and pathetic. Though I don't think the same can be said for the bedspread."

Mark sheepishly dropped the corner of the blanket he'd been using to scrub at his nose. 

Bridget laughed. "Never mind, don't worry about it. It's alright." She grasped his hand, kissing the back of it. "And we'll have you well in no time, never fear."

Mark sighed and closed his eyes again. "Thank you, darling. I very much hope you're right."

[rulesforthedance]

I've only been sick once since the start of the pandemic (a cold in 2021) (I <3 masks 4ever) but I've had several times when I've felt like I was starting to get sick and was like "oh shit covid has finally come for me" and each time it went away before it became more than a Hint of Something. But last night my left under-jaw lymph node got so swollen it hurt, which is historically a reliable precursor to me being sick, and I also felt generally Off, and I was like. This is it for real this time, here we go. But I got extra sleep last night and woke up this morning feeling fine and with the swelling almost gone. Something brought the fight to my door and I kicked its ass

[kineats]

LOVEEE YOUR RECIPES!

Oh Wow!! This blog really took off while I was away! Thank you all so much omg. I promise I'm working on the requests in the order they came in, my life just got a little chaotic and mundane human stuff needed my attention ^^UU But while I may not be fully back I promise to do my best to get to everyone!!

CW for under cut: Medical issues, cancer, poverty stuff, fundraisers/mutual aid

Okay so my mom got breast cancer and has swollen lymph nodes in her abdomen that they're worried about being maybe related, and at the same time my fiancee is losing her health insurance and might have to go off the meds that, like, keep her alive.

So I'm struggling to keep up my livestreams, which are my only source of income right now; take care of my mom, who is recovering from surgery; and help my fiancee process some copper wire her brother gave her to sell by weight at a scrapyard, because neither of us are terribly fit for the few available normal jobs nearby.

Anyway!!

Here's our gofundme's, feel free to share them!! You don't need to say more than "this one blogger I like is struggling, please share" or something.

gofundme.com/f/help-a-disabled-queer-get-accessible-exercise… = a cheap trike for my balance issues/lack of car, to get to further jobs

https://gofundme.com/f/help-a-disabled-queer-autistic-get-a-skoolie-home… = bus house that needs some surprise repairs, for a place for us to live on our own so she might qualify for state insurance

[traggy-faggy]

Oh my fucking god y'all I am so sick. The lymph nodes in my stomach and my neck are swollen and it hurts to move, standing longer than 2 minutes makes me feel like I'm gonna pass out, and I can't stay awake longer than 4 hours at a time. I ate some chocolate peanut clusters a few days ago and have been suffering ever since. I didn't know they were cross contaminated until I saw a fresh pack of them today and read them... Completely missed the warning the first time. Thanks celiac. Also accidentally ate two gluten Cheetos today because I thought they'd be gluten free like regular Cheetos and didn't realize until I already opened them and ate two of them. So I'm assuming it's gonna get worse for me later... Ugh. I've only got rice left for groceries and I don't really have enough money for the groceries I need sadly... Ughh if anyone can help me out please,, DM me for my cashapp or PayPal. I need medicine to keep me from being in a lot of pain and groceries that won't hurt me </3

Update as I was adding tags to this post: I'm feeling the gluten Cheetos now my tummy is hurting really really bad and I am being so so so so brave about it wish me luck y'all <333

[thistlekiss]

This flu shot is kicking my ass oh my fucking god. It must be a new strain.

It's saturday today, got the shot on tuesday.

i had terrible sleep last night, my lymph nodes are still swollen as fuck and sore, my arm is thankfully only swollen and hurting around the injection site now, instead of my entire upper arm. Fatigue was better yesterday, but i feel like ASS today. I feel like i've got a cold, i'm snotting all over, my throat hurts, i'm running a bit of a temperature, brain fog is shocking, i' exhausted. Ugh.

[meisteralready]

I’ll forgive myself a little tonight

I’m not as ugly as I feel,

The hair thinned, yet shaggy

Benefits from the turning gray,

Not a silver in the least,

But the vanity lights of my bathroom

Do their job

Inatleast

Makes the tussles look layered and

Somewhat cool

And I notice my lines that I cut

(As I scrub the minoxidil into my scalp)

Of my body with shoulders raised,

Glib my chin into two’s and three’s,

But if I just drop them, those shoulders,

Things look more appealing and,

DareIsayit,

A bit sculpted.

I realize my lack of tattoos

(I bleed easily and with length, a family trait)

Makes my scars more apparent,

Both of which are talking points,

But one is a choice and the other,

A consequence.

I can live with consequences. I don’t wish to cover them.

I shouldn’t be smoking. I have lately.

I found a full pack, sealed. Methols.

Which I hate.

But I have a full twenty years,

From when I smoked cigarettes last,

And this pack, I haven’t given away

(Oh, the guilt)

And has stayed, still unopened,

In my apartment for over a year

And now that I’m fifty,

I can say a true goodbye to my past 40,

By imbibing in such a vice,

One last time.

Also, my neighbor smokes and I’ve forgotten how much I adored the smell of burnt tobacco. Fresh and processed. A strong nostalgia.

I have to finish the pack. I hate to waste things still. It’s a another family trait.

A minute into the rub of my prescription,

The one thing I can’t forgive

(Or, more truthfully, let’s me not forgot)

Is the eyes.

My eyes.

Always there,

They say eyes never lie. That’s a half-truth. Its more that they can not live in make-believe, not even with the most of plastic surgery.

Tonight,

My eyes show all my years I have left

And I don’t want to read them, but they’re there, staring. Always staring.

Tomorrow, I will go to the doctor and check my swollen lymph node under my right arm. And for a survivor, that is not a good odd. It’s scarlet and scarlet, but unfortunately, now served as a third course, commonplace.

I will sleep on my left side tonight because of the pain in my right armpit because I can’t sleep on my back for the GERD and threat of Barrett’s syndrome. Next year, I’ll do another fast and oscopy and hope the polyps don’t return.

But now, I turn off the light.

And forgive myself

To dream.

[thegreatimpersonator]

Oh bestie I want to be asleep so bad 💙 I got my covid booster Friday and my whole arm and any lymph nodes I have on that side are swollen and sore af and I have a fever.

Oh i hate this for you 🥺 I hope you feel better soon im sending you so many hugs

[harrylegendstyles]

……