#How dare chronic pain

[sunnycanwrite]

Things the Batfamily has used instead of ice packs:

A head of broccoli

A whole cabbage

A frozen spoon

Fish

An attempt was made to use a freeze ray, it was stopped in time

An attempt was used to convince super man to use his freeze breath, stories vary on the result

Milkshake that Steph had left in the freezer

a chunk of ice from the side walk in the middle of January

Laid on the cave floor, and claimed it was cold enough to fix them

[impure-as-a-lamb]

genuinely fuck all my family members that made fun and keep making fun of my pain and don’t take me seriously. then something bad happens or i get finally diagnosed and they’re like “omg why didn’t you tell me sooner???” YOU ALWAYS TOLD ME I WAS EXAGGERATING.

[not-poignant]

every now and then i forget how bad my chronic illnesses are and every now and then my body is like 'hmmm you seem to have forgotten what it's like to be cripplingly bedridden and disabled and we don't want you to forget' and then i'm reminded and it feels a little like being yeeted into a granite cliff wall at full speed and leaving a dent

[milkweedman]

Not me putting off trying my wheel again bc im afraid that even on a 'good day' I might not be able to treadle. Hah. :/

Edit: OK either im not on a good day or else my good days are now hell, so I guess I will be avoiding the wheel out of sheer emotional self preservation

[arisushanti]

my search history while making a d&d character:

'pinterest'

'forgotten realms drugs'

'fantasynamegenerator genasi names'

'faerun smoking lore '

'dndbeyond'

'weed 5e'

[redrockbutch]

There is a not insignificant portion of disabled people who saw all the jokes about "do yoga to cure your Parkinson's" and assumed that applies to literally any prescribed movement whatsoever and they are furious if you point out that stretching throughout the day or going to a physical therapist might help even a little and I don't fucking get it

Some people lash out even if all you say is "moving an arm you get a vaccine in will prevent that dead-arm thing!" like it is the most virulent, defensive insistence on being utterly doomed and nothing could possibly ever help and I don't fucking get it

[corvidiss]

me: *puts toothbrush in mouth*

my jaw: WOE! WOE!! thou taketh violent oaths against me! thy actions shatter me to my very bone! thy misconduct teareth asunder ev’ry muscle in my attachment and ev’ry muscle there interlinked!! i mark thee as a cold-blooded killer and shout thy murderous malice from the towers so that any who hear me may be warned of thy nature so vile and depraved!

me:

me:

me: *starts brushing teeth*

jaw: *crosses metaphysical arms* youre a meanie >:(

[xysidhe]

This is how bullshit my chronic illness is.

My normal, it's just me being able to function. It's not an absence of pain, or suffering. It's just pain that I can work around.

Days without pain, nausea, splitting migraines, severe insomnia, nonstop tremors and body weakness? Days where I feel like a normal human? Those are rare. So rare I only get that maybe once every 2-4 months. A measly 12-16 hours of utter bliss in the form of feeling like my own body isn't betraying me.

I had that, yesterday, or as close as I can come to it. But I made a mistake, I took a nap because I was tired since my sleep schedule is so messed up. And now I'm far worse than I was the day before, now I'm in the kind of pain I can't work around and I have a nonstop mantra of "don't throw up, don't cry, don't throw up, don't cry" in my head because if I do it's going to be pure agony I won't be able to think around and I don't want another episode to start a mere 5 days after the last one finally stopped.

[cornix-the-void-crow]

Welcome to little list of Alastor headcanons that are actually technically projections, in no particular order of importance:

Has the bob because his hair tends to not grow much longer past his shoulders

Triple A battery (Aroace and agender), started as "man by default" but over time presentation slowly leans more and more into something else entirely

Habitually presents himself as having everything under control. He is not. If he wasn't busy convincing himself that he is he would have started asking how in this ever damned hell anyone believes him

Perpetual eyebags (and dark circles around eyes to some extent) that never fully leave and get significantly worse if he does not sleep

Undiagnosed slight astigmatism that causes regular headaches and perpetual squinting

On the topic of headaches, can ignore pain but it will make him easily irritable

He knows really well how easy it is to verbally or physically hurt other people, and irritability lowers his restraint towards not using the most painful insults in his arsenal significantly

Does not handle disrespect towards his work well. Technically it's a form of rejection-sensitive dysphoria but feeling hurt from it just makes him angrier and more likely to fight someone

In some cases the desire to fight people also applies if criticised work wasn't his but his friends'

He also a hypocrite in that regard cause Alastor is (sometimes unintentionally, sometimes intentionally) cruel with his own criticism of others' work

Subconsciously (sometimes consciously) refuses to process a lot of things. Such as actual reasons why he does nice things to people, why he allows certain people to live, certain aspects of his appearance, that somehow to some people every little part of him is possible object of desire

The last one is better not being thought about ever cause if he ever realises it he would disappear for more than 7 years this time

[cocklessboy]

The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.

[vizthedatum]

Leaving is loving

I found my teal curtains today

And I will never forgive you.

I know you think I’m the abuser

But you made me bleed on the inside.

I was burnt out

And it hurt too much to tell you that it was you.

I watched you tell me you were suicidal

So I rushed to fix myself while ignoring myself.

I trusted you

And you played with my mind like I was your most favorite game.

I challenged you

But you liked it so much that you kept playing.

I let you win

And I listened to you explain how I was wrong.

I packed your books

And you hated me for years.

I needed so much support

So you did give it to me, resentfully.

I showed you my wounds

And you used them to give me more.

I wanted our life

But I would have erased every good part of me to have it.

I tried so hard to please you

But it was never enough because you did not go to therapy or attend to your physical needs.

I miss you calling me Pri so much that it hurts - I wish I could hear it one last time

And I never want to be called that again - I never want you to call me anything ever again.

I loved you so much

So I left.

[faisty]

i am begging my painkillers to work i need to sleep

[killerpancakeburger]

SILVER-TONGUED

SUMMARY: Soap drops by your office to pick you up, like every friday evening for your poker game with the Task Force. But when you turn out harder to remove from your desk than expected, he's going to resort to a different method.

PAIRING: Soap x f!Reader

TAGS: Civilian!Reader, Anxious!Reader, Clingy!Soap, Established Relationship, fluff, swearing, mention of chronic pain, suggestive/light smut: dirty talking, gropping, foreplay (?), semi-public (happens in your office on base but no one walks in lol), (they keep their clothes on). Idk how to tag, help

WORDS COUNT: 1.2k

A/N: Just because I wish I had a Soap to sweet-talk me from my desk at the end of the workday. *sigh wistfully* This is the filthiest thing I've ever written, so... enjoy? But also forgive my amateurism.

Plunged into your work, you’re essentiellement deaf and blind to the outside world. When you notice Soap's presence, he had the time to sneak into your office and behind your chair, arms folded over your backrest. By the way he pronounces your name, you can tell this isn’t the first time he's calling it.

“Hey,” you salute, surfacing back to reality with difficulty, focus not leaving your computer's screen, but reaching backwards blindly with one hand for contact. He grabs it right away.

“What's up?”

He chuckles a bit at that.

“Day's over is what's up. Ye coming?”

Your eyes fly to the clock in the bottom right corner of the screen. The evidence is damning: your shift has been over for ten minutes. It is far from unusual for you to stay too late, but tonight's friday and the 141's weekly poker game is summoning you in the form of an overeager Scotsman whose eyes you would damn yourself for.

On the field, the Sergeant MacTavish can remain immobile for hours on end with a sniper rifle in hand, stoically waiting for a target to get in his sights. On base however, your lover can hardly stay still more than a minute without a reason he'd deem legitimate.

His question is very much rhetorical. You tried to slip away once, not because you didn’t want to come but because you were worried the guys felt obligated to invite you out of politeness, and somehow Johnny must have read your mind because he snatched you and fireman carried you all the way there.

You wouldn��t have forgiven him if he had dared to pull those antics in front of others, but he managed to keep that spectacle just between the two of you. You still yelled at him a lot afterwards though. And punched him. And kicked him. Felt like hitting a punching bag anyway, so you didn’t feel guilt over the fact that he wasn’t defending himself at all. Once you were done huffing and puffing, you just glared at him, out of breath, fists clenched, and he stared back shamelessly, a grin on his face. The genuine joy in his expression was contagious, so you started laughing uncontrollably, and he joined you quickly. 

Coming from anyone else, this overly familiar behavior would have disturbed you. Being carried around like a helpless toy, powerless to resist someone else's will, wasn’t something you were fond of. But Soap proved himself time and time again to be safe. He could tell apart your serious reluctances from your playful protests, and if he had any doubt that you were uncomfortable, he would have stopped messing around instantly.

Deciding for you in that particular moment eased you off a burden, saving you from crippling indecisiveness and from endlessly weighing pros and cons in awkward silence. It was a favour.

You never contemplated refusing the offer again after that.

“In five minutes,” you bargain, not wanting to interrupt yourself in the middle of a task.

He loudly whines in protest at that, acting more distressed than he actually is.

“Nooo. Come ooon. Ye can finish later.”

“Be quiet,” you retort, and yet unable to curb an amused smile from stretching your lips.

He sighs exaggeratedly before admitting defeat. For exactly five minutes and not one second more.

“Bonniiiie.”

You don't relent.

“I'm almost done!”

“Ye were s'pposed to be done 20 minutes ago!”

You don't have any good argument to oppose that truth, so you remain silent. Soap does not.

He starts massaging your shoulders and dispensing cajoleries into your ear to coax you into compliance. You manage to tune him out until he curiously presses the tips of his fingers into your trapezius muscles and you wince. He lets out an impressed whistle.

“Fuck, yer tense. Yer shoulders feel like reinforced concrete.”

You sigh, having heard that one before.

“Bane of my existence,” you mumble absently.

He hums pensively, and you think that's the end of the matter, until his hand slides down your chest, all the way from your collarbone until your navel, leaving shivers in its wake, and his lips settle on the crook of your neck.

Concentrating suddenly becomes impossible.

“Johnny,” you call out in warning.

Or at least that was the goal, but you can hear in your own voice how affected you already are.

He treats his name like a demand for more, and leaves a trail of kisses along your neck and your shoulder, tugging on your collar to have more skin to work with. Meanwhile his hand caress and grope your torso, burning you through your clothes, in slow, unhurried motions that feel terribly suggestive. He knows your body so intimately well, only brushing the sore spots, like the side of your ribs, where the bone presses right beneath the skin, teasing the sensitive areas and tenderly stroking the rest.

“What do you think you're doing?” you contrive to ask, resisting the temptation to close your eyes to focus solely on his touch.

This may be afterhours, but you’re still in your work office, and anyone could barge in. While the idea may be arousing in theory, you know that the reality would mortify you.

“Just helpin’ ye relax, hen. Ye work too hard. Lemme take care o’ ye.”

Once again, you can’t find a good argument to oppose him. You do work too hard, and you desperately need to unwind before the pressure you self impose makes you explode like a time bomb. Since you've started dating, Soap had a tendency to mentor you into taking it easy, and he never steered you wrong until now.

You sigh in defeat, lift a hand to grasp his mohawk, letting your head tilt backwards, and surrender to his wandering hands and mouth.

Two fingers glide on the inside of your thigh, from knee to groin. In the meantime, his hand squeezes your breast. His lips stop from sucking and licking your flesh only to whisper filthy nothings into your ear.

“Could sneak under yer desk… make myself at home between yer legs… and let ye fuck my face while nobody knows. Would help with yer tension, ah'm sure.”

You suck in a gasp at the conjured mental image, legs spreading almost immediately. You, digging your fingernails into your palms with restraint, Johnny's cerulean eyes almost shining in the half-light of the bottom of your desk as he's staring hungrily at you, kneeling. Him raising a finger across his lips in silent command before spreading your knees further apart and nuzzling against your crotch. You fighting back against the urge to grind on his face and suffocate him between your thighs, the knowledge that he's not averse to the idea making things worse.

“Johnny,” you whimper, beguiled. “Fuck.”

He lets out an appreciative hum.

“Knew ye'd like that.”

The fingers tickling your inner thigh finally move to where you want them most. You grit your teeth to contain the moan that threatens to escape you as his middle finger runs up and down your slit.

Then the racket of your phone vibrating against the wood of your desk abruptly brings you back to reality. Your eyes open wide and you raise your head to see who's calling, only to swear in horror as Ghost's mask occupies the screen. As the contact's photo vanishes, a notification indicating seven missed calls makes your stomach twist in fear.

One does not stand up Lieutenant Riley and comes out unscathed.

[svsss-fanon-exposed]

Exposing SVSSS Fanon: 7/∞

SHEN YUAN WAS A SOCIALLY AWKWARD, INTROVERTED SHUT-IN BY NATURE

Rating: FANON - UNSUPPORTED

The common depiction of Shen Yuan in fanworks is that he was an antisocial shut-in who never left his room, spending all day reading and commenting on webnovels, and always focused on his computer or phone screen or a book. This is frequently coupled with the depiction of Shen Yuan as chronically ill, as something caused by this illness, but it is also generally used even when such illness is not featured, likely as part of the stereotype of someone chronically online who has the time to spend on making long-winded comments on online forums and reading a 20 million word novel in a short span of time.

However, while canon does not directly state otherwise, the depiction of SY!QQ's personality conflicts with this interpretation and portrays him on multiple occasions as someone who enjoys going out into the world, exploring, and interacting with others, to the point where it is used to deliberately contrast his nature with Shen Jiu's:

At the same time, how could he not want to go out and play? Up until now, he’d been hunkered down inside Qing Jing Peak’s Bamboo House, forced to fake being an awesome master of arts and literature, meaning everything he did had to be done “blandly”: blandly speaking, blandly laughing, blandly practicing the sword, blandly being a poser—bland to the point that he often had the urge to scatter a handful of salt over his head! What a damn pain! And now when he finally got a break to take a trip down the mountain, he was still trapped in his room because of the System’s stance that “the original Shen Qingqiu liked quiet and would be unwilling to mingle.” (7S Ch. 2)

During the years that Luo Binghe is in the Abyss, Shen Qingqiu spends most of his time off the mountain:

During these three years, other than occasionally asking Liu Qingge for assistance in clearing his meridians to treat his poison, requesting medicinal prescriptions from Mu Qingfang, and briefly visiting Qing Jing Peak to arrange leveling missions for his disciples, Shen Qingqiu spent most of his time wandering about the outside world. He passed the days leisurely until an urgent notice from Yue Qingyuan arrived to suddenly summon him back to Cang Qiong Mountain. (7S Ch. 6)

For someone who is a shut-in, especially when fearing (what he thinks is) his inevitable death, it would be far more likely that Shen Qingqiu would shut himself inside the bamboo house as much as possible. Instead, he copes by going out and exploring the world.

After he wakes up in his mushroom body, instead of going off to hide away in seclusion somewhere (which would have been in line with a shut-in, antisocial personality), he instead thinks to immediately try to establish relations with the demon realm:

The first step to starting his all-new life would, of course, have to be proceedings with which Shen Qingqiu was most familiar. First, for a prop, he needed a folding fan, one with a white silk base, decorated with an ink wash painting of mountains and rivers. Shen Qingqiu snapped the fan open and waved it before his chest, sending his long hair and whiskers flying. Perhaps his image wasn’t ideal and was slightly unsuited to said prop, but that didn’t matter. With a folding fan in hand / Badass act at my command... ...this actually opened up a new line of thought. These minor demons had never dared to do more than snoop and thieve here and there. But if he could supply them with an honest channel for small goods, perhaps within this world that revolved around cultivation and monster-fighting, he could forge paths into a new frontier based on farming and amassing capital? Shen Qingqiu irresponsibly fantasized for a while, then felt that if he were to accept underlings, they needed to understand each other’s cultural practices. (7Seas Ch. 9)

He has established good relations with his martial siblings and frequently spends time with them:

Whenever the sect siblings from Cang Qiong Mountain got together, the conversation never stopped, and any little remark could get played on forever. But today, their conversation was extremely short. They usually headed off to Zui Xian Peak to have a meal together... (7Seas Ch. 32)

He even goes so far as to invite Shang Qinghua to visit Qing Jing Peak, before he is aware that SQH is a transmigrator:

“They were harvested from the tea fields of my senior disciple Ming Fan’s family,” Shen Qingqiu said affably. “As for whether they’re high-quality, won’t Shang-shidi know if he comes for tea at Qing Jing Peak?” (7Seas Ch. 26)

Instead of simply hiding away in a house while waiting for Luo Binghe to recover from his deaging, Shen Qingqiu instead goes to get a teaching job:

Shen Qingqiu soon got so bored that his bones began to itch, so he casually took up work at the largest academy in the city. (7Seas Ch. 28)

Throughout the novel, Shen Qingqiu's characterization is consistently established as someone who gets bored when he is forced to stay in one place and do nothing. Unless there is someone providing him with adequate companionship (he didn't travel as much when LBH was on Qing Jing Peak, for example), or he is indisposed in some way, Shen Qingqiu is almost always going out to explore the world and meet people.

Because of the way that he is stressed and bored when stuck inside, and how he goes out to cope with that, it's fairly easy to say that Shen Yuan/Shen Qingqiu is an extroverted person.

Now, does this completely deny the possibility that he was a shut-in in his former life? Not necessarily. It does, however, make it far more likely that he is not a shut-in by nature, and that if he did spend all day in his room, it was likely due to some other factor, such as depression.

Shen Qingqiu is characterized as an extroverted person with an attractive personality, and while his internal monologue can be at times somewhat awkward, the way he is perceived by others is not so. He expresses no desire to hide away in his room all day and becomes unhappy if he has to. He likes to go out and experience new things and meet new people.

The idea that for no other reason than his personality Shen Yuan spent all his time in his room or was antisocial in any way is not supported by canon, and in fact there is far more evidence to the alternative.

[maximwtf]

“Fret not, all will be well.”

Xianyun x Reader

Words: 2k

Google Docs Pages: 3

Warnings: chronic (joint) pain but I guess the mentions are very brief, could just go as a sickfic, hurt/comfort angst you know the usual. Mother is mothering

Opening: Having been Xianyun’s disciple for years, you finally move to the harbour. Though, trips to Mt. Aocang to see your master started to feel like a chore after your body started to ache. Word of this pain spread to her unknownst to you. This making the adeptus seek you out. 

AN// Reader can be any gender! Oh no, is that another very self indulgent fanfic I see?! Yes. But these help with the bane of my existence so I might as well keep making them. This also gives me a chance to learn how to write for her, because I’m a firm believer that more content of her is needed :”D. I found her way of speaking hard to follow up on without hearing her talk constantly, so I apologise if any of her lines seem off. 

I proof read this fairly quickly, so any mistakes are on that.

“Fret not, all will be well.”

After years of studying the adeptus arts with Cloud Retainer, you moved back to Liyue Harbour. Got yourself a comfortable house to live in, and built your new life around there. From time to time you would still visit the all too familiar mountain that your master ruled. You’d sometimes bring in notes and greetings from Shenhe and Ganyu whenever they couldn’t find the time in their busy lives to visit the crane. An overall nice set up you’d gotten yourself into. 

You couldn’t deny that the scenery along the way to Mt. Aocang was also beautiful, bringing you joy as you made your way each time. As rough as the trip from time to time was, it was always worth it in the end. You could tell the visits delighted the adeptus living alone, bringing her peace of mind to hear that her disciples were doing alright. 

Though as of recent, you had found it hard to make it all the way to her. Body aching badly enough to not even make you dare to try. You began giving your regards to Cloud Retainer through Ganyu or Shenhe instead, staying home and working as you’d usually. Though, as much as you had hoped otherwise, the condition seemed to worsen over time. 

But even with life getting harder due to the aches, you couldn’t find it in you to complain. After all, you lived comfortably and didn’t feel the need to bother anyone with this. Maybe even still hoping that this would eventually pass. That having been one of the main reasons why you hadn’t told Cloud Retainer why you stopped visiting her like you’d done in the past. 

But even with the hopeful mindset, you had to admit to yourself that doing daily tasks had become more challenging. You'd already taken a few days off work to rest, but that hadn’t helped as much as you had hoped. Your form ached just as much each morning, having to find the extra courage to get up and prepare breakfast. 

So in hindsight, the fact that the news of your worsening condition had spread shouldn’t have been as much of a surprise as you’d taken it as. Especially with how close you were with the people around you. Them figuring out something was wrong was no surprise. 

Though, you didn’t notice any of that happening. Being busy enough with keeping your daily routines together. 

And that was exactly what you were doing this morning. Sitting up from your bed with muffled groans, eyes tired from the lack of sleep. With a yawn you attempted to gently stretch, wiping your eyes to maybe rub away the exhaustion behind them. You didn’t know if it ever actually went away at this point, but you stayed hopeful. 

As normal as this morning had been so far, it was going to turn upside down soon enough. And that happened as soon as a knock echoed from your front door. It alerted you, chasing away the last bits of sleep from your mind as you took a hold of your nightstand to stand up. 

You stumbled with the first few steps, cursing to yourself silently before shaking the nagging attitude off for whoever was at your door. With a deep breath you tried to pull something that resembled a smile on your face before opening the door to see who was on the other side. But that facade of a smile soon fell when you saw your master standing outside, patiently waiting for you. 

Your eyes widened for a brief moment, trying to quickly collect yourself as to not embarrass yourself in front of her. “Good morning, master.” You began, watching as her keen eyes looked around your house quickly before landing on you. “May one come in? Perhaps join you for breakfast?” She asked, a polite invitation with a clear hidden meaning. But who were you to decline her offer, after not being able to go and see her yourself for such a long time. “Ah, of course. Come in.” You mentally sighed, stepping out of her way as she walked through the threshold. 

Her feather-like clothing swayed smoothly as she made her way to your kitchen, seeing how messy it looked. You cringed at seeing the dishes you’d avoided cleaning, knowing it would put a strain on your body and even the thought of that felt unwelcoming. But it most certainly was not a good look for you in her eyes. But she was kind enough not to mention it, hiding the scowl mixed frown from her face before turning to you. 

“Word of you got to one, making one wish to come and see you.” Xianyun said, seating herself on one of the chairs gracefully. You didn't know what she was talking about. Not having any memory of talking to Ganyu or Shenhe about yourself, you weren’t so sure what she’d heard and from who. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean, master,” you replied before turning your back to her in an attempt to prepare tea for the both of you. Still fully listening to what she had to say. “One heard you had fallen ill, thus making you unable to visit.” She said, voice observant as she watched you gently. You cringed at the explanation, assuming the people around you must have spread the word around. “Ah, I see. Well, worry not for I am perfectly fine.” You hummed, taking a hold of the cups with a low hiss. You hadn’t had the time in the morning to mend yourself into a better shape before making something to eat. So these tasks hurt to do, but there was no way to explain this to Cloud Retainer in simple means. 

But perhaps you didn’t have to explain. The hiss and careful movements must have been enough for her to form a deeper frown on her face once more. “One does not recall teaching one’s disciples to lie, hm.” She said with a huff, some offence in her tone but you knew it wasn’t serious. You were more worried when you heard her stand up. You swallowed hard, turning to see her after placing down the cups. “One may not know every mortal illness, but that does not mean one is blind.” She continued, placing her hands to her hips. You weren’t sure what she was looking to gain from this, drawing in a deep breath. There was no way out of this with her. You’d have to explain what had been going on. 

You leaned on the kitchen counter, looking away from her as you collected your thoughts. “Well, I wasn’t necessarily lying when I said I was fine. It’s merely some joint pain.” Cloud Retainer gave you a look, tilting her head a little as if to point to the mess in your kitchen. Not to even mention the rest of the house. “Well- It may or may not stop me from doing certain tasks sometimes, but it honestly is nothing to worry yourself over.” You sighed, not sure if you were trying to defend yourself or make her worry less. “One does not worry themselves, one merely came to see where you had been,” she huffed but after reading her expression it wasn’t hard to tell that she was only keeping up appearances with the comment. She had come here for exactly what you accused her of, worry. 

There was no getting through to her. You sighed, shaking your head gently before giving in. “Very well. It hurts enough to have stopped me from climbing the mountain to come and see you. And maybe it also affected the appearance of my living space.” You huffed, turning your eyes to her form, giving her a strong ‘you happy now?’ look. And in return she gave you a moment of deep silence before crossing her arms over her chest. “Words of comfort are not one’s strong suit, but allow one to prepare the tea for you. We shall sit and talk after.” She said, and without another word you understood the look she was giving you as ‘go sit down’. And that you did with no further complaints. 

You abandoned the kitchen, not wanting to sit in silence in the same space as her as the water slowly boiled. So you retreated to the nearest couch, huddling up on it to the best of your ability. You’d figured a while back that sitting with your legs criss crossed or straight were the only two pain free ways of sitting. So, choosing to cross your legs, you waited for your master to come back. And whatever entailed when she did.

In no time the sound of her heels alerted you, the sound getting closer and soon a warm mug was placed on the table in front of you. Xianyun herself sat on a stool you kept under the table, crossing her legs. 

Taking a hold of the mug, it warmed up your hands. Not even having noticed how cold your hands  had gotten, it felt nice. Bringing it up made the steam hit your face, but it wasn’t too hot, making you confirm that the tea probably wasn’t too hot not to drink. So you took a sip, holding back a wider smile at the taste. It reminded you of the tea you used to have with her back when you’d just started as her disciple. The teas she made had a specific taste that you couldn’t chase whenever you made it. At some point having started to believe that perhaps it was the effect that happened when you ate any food someone else had made. It just tasted better. And so did the tea she prepared, bringing back pleasant memories. 

But that train of thought was interrupted as she spoke up, placing her mug down gently. “One had time to ponder on your condition. One believes there may be a stronger medicine one could prepare for you in order to relieve the pain. One also feels the need to remind you, that one is always here for you. You need not but reach out.” She spoke, a sense of comfort in her words which somehow managed to embarrass you. 

You gulp down the rest of the tea, placing down the mug to reply to her properly. “You need not do that for me, if it’s any trouble-” You started, but she raised her hand slightly, shaking her head. “Nonsense. One wishes to help, it is no trouble. So fret not, all will be well.” And the way she managed to word everything out brought a sense of comfort that overpowered the embarrassment. Perhaps she was correct, all would be well if you had someone helping you. So you agreed with a nod. “Alright. Thank you, Cloud Retainer,” you added, a tired yet grateful expression on your face. 

A short, rather awkward silence fell upon the two of you. As if she wanted to say something but wasn’t so sure how. “Hm, as eloquent as one may be, there is not much more I can say. So allow one to tidy up here and you take a rest. One will wake you up in due time.” She requested but truly there was nothing you could say to protest against her. She was going to do it regardless. “You really do not have to,” you mumbled while laying down carefully, reaching down for a felt. You groaned lowly at the action, shoulder not giving out enough to unravel it. “One does not feel obligated to, fret not.” She replied, even as rhetorical as your silent comment had been. But almost as if automatically while speaking, she’d gotten up enough to unravel the felt for you before turning towards the kitchen. You blinked a couple of times at her action, not mentioning anything of it as you huddled to a more comfortable position. You’d thank her once you woke up again, was the last thought you had before the sleep you’d been losing recently caught up with you. 

[olderthannetfic]

I really hate how easily it is to notice that, despite all the talks about tolerance and acceptance, the moment you start talking disability and the actual diversity of issues within, people get fucking uncomfortable

Especially abled-bodied, and/or neurotypical people who seem to have a might need to reframe disabilities. Not disabled, but DIFFERENTLY abled. Not disabled, but SPECIALLY abled. Or whatever, or reframing disabilities, especially chronic ones, as a superpower or some shit.

Even disabled people do that shit, it's still fucking annoying, but that's an issue between you and your life. Just don't try and push it as a "better term."

But what adds another layer is, that despite trying to pretend that people accept disabilities, they'll still become almost furious when something or a certain "life experience" is presented to be disabling. Not even "as a disability, period." but just disabling in your life.

It also almost always feels like disabilities are an afterthought in any discussions about society and issues faced. So many things don't get addressed or glossed over, UNLESS they also bother enough abled people. -Sever anxiety or other NDs that make it hard to talk to people? Nah, we won't give you the option for no-face-to-face ordering... oh the ablebodied people getting sick? Wait a minute, now it's much more accessible. : ) -Damn these stairs are hard to use because you use a wheelchair/bad legs/other shit? Ok, but can we wait until the people we actually care for need help? You can just crawl right? -You're a deaf/HOH person? And you wanna set up an appointment anywhere? Yeah... so... we only take calls. Yes we understand that we're a clinic specialising in HOH/Deafness, but you can't expect us to do HOH/Deafness-accessible appointment set-ups, like sms or email.

And then, when you dare talk about it. OTHER issues are more important. The WHATTABOUTISM in disabled issues is fucking staggering and painful. -Who cares that disabled people can't save money in fear of losing their life, what about POC people? What about queer people? -Who cares that disabled people are the first to be sacrificed when it comes down to it, covid anyone? Remember how disabled people were the first to be put on the "take them off the support" list? - Dating, relationships, marriage as a disabled person has red tape out the wazooo. But how dare you mention it, queer people also have problems.

It's not even like we get to say "Yeah both are important, let's work together." It's more like people are trying to push disabled issues out of the way, and occasionally add it on as an accessory in favor of the more "aesthetic" issues.

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