#as a chronic pain sufferer

[withasideofshakespeare]

Disabled liberation means Richard III gets to Be Like That.

[sesshy380]

Forced myself to not be a lump in computer chair and made myself something to eat. I feel .001% better than before I ate.

The difference between then and now is I no longer have major upset stomach due to not eating. I now just have mild upset stomach due to eating.

Now trying to decide which body ache pain reliever I should take. I am currrently leaning towards ibuprofin, but hesitant because stomach.

[chronicpaingirlie]

“why do i feel like shit today” says the guy with chronic pain & fatigue for the 10000th day in a row

[redysetdare]

I don't think a lot of people realize that lot of their advice to disabled people often boils down to "Get over it." they are trying to be helpful but their idea of helpful is "Just do the thing" because that's what they do. for them they just do things. It comes naturally to just do it.

They don't know how to bridge the gap between you and the task. For them the bridge is already pre-built and stable. For disabled people the bridge is run down, not well kept, it feels unsteady and is hard to get across without being slow and cautious - hell for some people there is no bridge and we need to build it ourselves but we don't have the bridge building tools and no one gives them to us.

"Just cross the bridge." They say before walking over their pre-built bridge. They never gave you the tools to build a bridge to cross.

[tea-cat-arts]

Shen Yuan getting transported into pidw isn't "the system punishing him for being a lazy internet hater," but instead representative of "step 1 of the creative process: getting so mad at something you decide to go write your own fucking book" in this essay I will

[poeticnotpretentious]

Oh my god I can’t believe I have to say this but:

DISABLED PEOPLE CAN HAVE GOOD DAYS!!

Just because I had one day when the pain wasn’t there for long enough for me to enjoy it doesn’t mean I am suddenly “cured from my issue” or that I don’t need accommodations anymore.

[bardic-inspo]

*takes your face and holds it tenderly*

You were not made just to suffer. You are more. You are so much more than your hardest moments. 💜

[akindplace]

My illness has no cure. It probably won’t have for the duration of my life. It won’t “get better” because the scientific community is still trying to understand it and there is not enough academic research on it, unfortunately. Many doctors haven’t heard of it, and they don’t always know how to help, how to treat it. Everything is always very experimental and there isn’t a single solution for the symptoms of my illness since every person suffering from it has very different experiences.

Yes, there is no cure, and they won’t probably find one soon. But there is something else that can be solved, there is a resolution to be found: it’s acceptance by society. Accommodation. That often involves people having to be educated, because often the worst judgments come from a place of ignorance. But I believe society can know better. I believe in advocating for the rights of disabled people. The quality of life of a disabled person like me can greatly improve when others understand that my body might work differently than theirs, that my limitations don’t always allow me to be the most productive all the time, that I am dealing with chronic pain, and chronic health problems, but I am still a person, just as anyone else.

As social creatures, we need each other. And it’s okay that different people have different needs. And needing more or less support should not define your worth or how integrated you should be into society.

[youngchronicpain]

Hey, you! Try that mobility aid you've been thinking about. If it helps you, then you need it. Easy as that! Most people start using mobility aids on their own, without a doctor recommendation. And that's perfectly normal and okay! If you're worried about using it correctly, there are many guides to get you started. I know it can be scary. But mobility aids can open up your world in so many ways. If it helps, then you need it!

[ghoulymadge]

[freshbaked-bread]

rahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

[homicidalbrunette]

Here's 3 minutes of Katya and Trixie acting like an old married couple

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 351

Bruce is Exhausted. Capital E and everything. He can feel himself get older, even with how Gotham’s aging worked. So perhaps it was less getting older, and more of his body finally rebelling against the abuse he put it through night and day. 

Way too many old injuries flaring up and bones full of steel aching. The issue, really, is that his kids are starting to complain about the same things. And if they’re actually complaining about it, then it’s bad, that’s just how everyone in the family is. 

They make a fuss about each other’s injuries, but don’t so much as talk about their own unless it’s an active issue. So. It’s a big issue. 

Which meant actually wrangling them to the doctors…

[cuubism]

Hurt/Comfort -- there are so many dumb human hurts, that always surprise.

First time Retired!Morpheus has a silly human ouch -- burned tongue from drinking too hot tea, stubbed toe on his favorite chair, misjudged a distance and bumping, hard enough to bruise, into a pointy household surface, sweats from spicy food.

Hob's sympathetic giggles.

I made it a BIT more sad 😔 ok maybe a lot more sad

--

Hob had expected, given he was used to being a king and all, for Dream to be more prissy about the small indignities of human life. How dare the rain wet my hair, Hob, he'd expected. This railing gave me a splinter, you must kiss it better.

In reality, Dream has borne it all with a stoic, grave acceptance. Like one receiving a doctor's solemn pronouncement: yes, you will live, but. Each tiny injury, each failure, each confusion and moment of tripping and falling, he simply straightens his regal shoulders, thins his lips to a hard line. Simply accepts it grimly. Sometimes, Hob will catch him staring off into the distance for a moment, the way he used to do when he was searching for information among the minds of his dreamers, to know if what he is feeling is serious. Then he'll blink hard, and look down as he realizes it's no longer accessible to him.

Hob doesn't know what to do to help him in those moments. He can't fix it for him. He just rubs the back of his neck and kisses his temple, and that seems to soothe him somewhat.

Mostly, Hob just tries to reassure him that whatever he's feeling is normal. Ordinary human indignities, small aches and pains. Nothing to worry about, love.

So Dream's reaction to these things is unexpected--Hob had really expected more complaining--but ultimately doesn't trouble him too much.

Until he comes home one day to find Dream slumped under the covers in their bed, face mushed in the pillow, staring blankly at the wall.

It's not unusual to find Dream asleep. He seems to need a lot of it, ironically. But he's not sleeping, now, just kind of... still.

Hob crouches by the bed in his line of sight. "Hey, love. Everything alright?"

"I do not feel well," Dream says, with his characteristic seriousness around these matters. He sounds hoarse. His eyes look bleary, like he's been sniffling and rubbing at them. Hob lays the back of his hand on his forehead. He feels a bit warm, nothing too terrible.

"Just a cold, I expect," he says, and tries to offer a comforting smile, even as he hurts to see Dream looking so despondent. "Feels gross, but I think you'll live."

"I know," Dream says solemnly. Resignedly. As if he cannot imagine a worse fate in this moment but will stoically bear it as he has all things.

"Sit up for me for a sec." Dream groans as Hob lifts him up to lean against the headboard. "I know, but it'll help your sinuses clear. And I'll make you some tea, for your throat."

When Hob comes back with the tea, Dream is sitting exactly as he left him, head tipped back against the headboard and looking utterly miserable.

Hob passes him his tea and, while Dream sips it, goes to pet his hair, but Dream subtly shifts his head away. Must be feeling too tender even to want to be touched, then. Poor thing.

When Dream's finished his tea, Hob fetches some vaporub from the bathroom and perches by Dream on the edge of the bed. "Think you can cope with being touched just for a minute or two?"

A look of regret flashes briefly across Dream's face. "Hob..."

"Shh, it's alright. I just want to put some of this on your chest, that's all."

Dream undoes the tie on his silk robe and lets it fall open over his chest. "What is it?"

"Like a salve to help your congestion." He rubs some in over Dream's sternum, careful not to press too hard when he's feeling fragile while still rubbing it in well enough that it won't feel sticky on his skin, then massages some into his neck, fingers light on his vulnerable throat.

Dream wrinkles his nose. "The scent is strong."

Hob laughs. "I know, that's the point."

"It is not wholly unpleasant, though," Dream concedes. He looks down at Hob from under his lashes, and for a moment he does look regal again, and Hob his humble servant. "Thank you."

"Anything for you, my dear heart. If you want a cuddle you can let me know, but it seemed rather like you didn't want to be touched."

"My skin feels like glass," Dream says, chagrined.

"I Know. Promise it'll all clear up in a few days and won't hurt so much anymore."

"Won't hurt anymore," Dream echoes, brow pinched. "Is not this human fate constant maladies and pain?"

It could be one of Dream's rare dry jokes but something about the way he says it makes Hob's brain ping in alarm. "Well," he says, trying to laugh it off, "sure, it's a parade of minor torments, but no, it's not all pain, it'll pass."

Dream looks down at his hands. "I see."

A terrible suspicion starts gnawing in Hob's chest. "Dream, how much pain are you in? Not right now with the cold, I mean usually."

Dream tilts his head in thought. "Upon what metric is the scale?"

That's not, 'none, Hob, why are you asking?'

"Um," Hob says, in growing concern, "between none and the worst physical pain you've ever felt, I guess?"

Strangely, this makes Dream relax. "I have experienced far worse," he says. "Human life pales in comparison to the agony of fighting the Morningstar, to name but one example." When Hob keeps staring at him, horrified, because "it's not as bad as when I was nearly killed in Hell" is no comfort at all, Dream concludes, "This is normal, then." He seems satisfied by that, if not happy. Resigned, in a way, to what he feels he must cope with, now that he understands what it is. Dream is altogether too good at coping. "I had thought as much but had not the frame of reference to confirm."

"No!"

Dream flinches at the sudden outburst, and Hob regrets raising his voice. He lays his hands on Dream's blanket-adorned thighs, softens his tone. "No, Dream, it's not normal to be in pain all the time."

"...Oh." Dream's face falls, confusion overtaking the calm acceptance that had preceded it. Hob bites back a 'why didn't you tell me!' because the answer is obvious. He thought it was normal.

"Where are you in pain?" he asks instead, steadying his voice. "Normally, I mean?"

Maybe he just means that he's been getting a bit stiff like any other person in their thirties--fabricated though those 'thirties' might be. Maybe Hob just needs to get him into yoga.

"My joints," Dream says, lightly touching his wrist as an example. "My head hurts. Constantly. And I am very tired."

"Okay, no, love, that's not normal," Hob says. He doesn't know how he didn't notice. Then again, he hadn't noticed the first time Dream was suffering. Or at least, he'd noticed, but he hadn't grasped the depth of it until it was nearly too late. Damn Dream's self-sufficiency.

"I am dying, then," Dream declares, with finality.

"You're not dying. You can't die, remember?" Not unless you choose it, the back of his mind whispers. A new fear that lingers constantly, always chewing on him. "But you shouldn't have to just suffer either without us trying to do something about it. I'm sorry I didn't notice."

"It's of no consequence," Dream says, contemplative now, perhaps thinking through the concept of not having to suffer wordlessly. God, this creature.

"There is something you can do to fix it, then?" Dream asks then, hopeful.

Hob would give anything to be able to just solve all of his problems. "I don't know what yet, but I'm sure we can do something more than literally nothing at all."

Dream cracks a small smile, and tips toward him, like he'd really like to lean on Hob's shoulder but is being prevented by the fact that he currently feels made of glass. Poor thing.

"You should rest more," Hob says. "Will help the cold clear up quicker. I'll get you more pillows."

When he's gotten Dream propped up against what feels like all the pillows in the house, he sits beside him in bed, laptop open. It's only seven p.m., and he's still got marking to do, but hopefully Dream won't mind the company.

Lying on his side again, Dream watches him as he types, gaze piercing and solemn. "You need something else?" Hob asks.

"Conceptually, I would like a hug," Dream says gravely. "But I am aware it would not feel pleasant at the moment."

"Poor darling. How about this." Hob takes off his sweatshirt and drapes it over Dream's shoulders.

Dream pulls it close and tucks his nose into the collar. "Thank you."

"You want the TV on?"

Hob only even has a TV in the bedroom because of Dream. Dream never spends any time actually watching TV, but the background noise of the stories seems to soothe him and lull him to sleep. Hob wonders if it reminds him of the background noise of the Dreaming.

Dream nods, so Hob turns it on low, paying no real attention to what's even playing. Whatever it is, it quickly puts Dream to sleep.

Hob looks down at him. He looks peaceful now, all that seriousness melted away from his expression. Hob should probably have known that he would approach human life with the gravity with which he approached all else.

He lays a light hand on Dream's dear forehead again--still no fever--and then ghosts it over his hair. Dream is so much more resilient than he gives himself credit for. So much more resilient than he should have to be.

Hob tucks the blankets in tighter around him, and lets him sleep.

[tea-cat-arts]

Actually, I hope Jiaoqiu stays blind (at least for a couple years in our time) and just bullies the Xianzhou alliance into inventing disability aids and treating disabled people better

[mmm-eta]

unpopular opinion: I don't like Viktor's appearance in LOL and I don't fancy him being mechanized (like that) in Arcane.

I know I'll suck some dick with it so i'm just glad I came to this fandom before s2 so I can live in my wet dreams (on the picture) for a little. riot please say his design will be cooler than the game's one.