#but my chronic bad back is causing more pain than usual

[graveyardrabbit]

“it’s what Dr Evan O'Neill Kane would have wanted” is, apparently, not a good reason to surgically excise my own back muscles and install new ones

[audhdnight]

Just thinking about the common experience of late diagnosed disabled people of “the normal amount of pain is none” and how we’re just supposed to know that despite *some* level of pain being OUR normal for our entire lives, even if it’s usually not super bad it’s just always there.

Thinking about how, when I told my mother this, she asked me “So what’s hurt?” Which is very different than “what hurts?”

I looked at her, confused. “Nothing is hurt. I just hurt.”

And she says “But where do you hurt?”

“Well, right now it’s my stomach and my ankles-“

She cuts me off. “So you twisted your ankle?”

“No,” I say. “My ankles just hurt. I’ve been walking today.”

Now it’s her turn to look confused. “Just walking doesn’t make your ankles hurt. You must have sprained them or something.”

But I shake my head. “Nope. This just happens on days when I walk more than a little bit. My ankles hurt first, then my knees by lunch time. And if I don’t take a nap and stay on my feet all day, my hips will be hurting too.”

“Oh.”

Joint pain is my normal. Sometimes, if I barely walk all day, the ache in my ankles is barely noticeable and doesn’t affect my functioning because I’m used to it. If I do what most able-bodied people would consider to be a “normal” amount of walking, almost all of my joints will hurt by supper. If I have to wash dishes or run any errands, I’ll hurt so bad I can’t walk for the rest of the day.

Then there’s the chronic migraine attacks. I used to have them multiple times a week as a child, and no matter how I explained myself, nobody ever understood that they weren’t just headaches. I experienced those too, and frequently, but they were not the same. Thankfully, at the age of eleven, I found an article explaining migraine triggers. I was able to identify a few of my own triggers, and the frequency of my migraine attacks reduced to maybe a couple a month. For a few years I was basically on cloud nine, I’d never experienced such a lack of pain before and it was so freeing. Unfortunately, migraine is a progressive condition, so the attacks have gotten more frequent over the years.

And then there’s the “random” pains. Some mornings I wake up and my stomach hurts. Or my chest. Or my back. These are just things I have to live with, because my body’s connective tissue is… well, for lack of a better word, faulty. And I never knew that other people didn’t experience this, because how could I? We never talked about it. Sometimes I’d hear people complain about back aches and just assume they were like mine. Of course, I knew that injuring yourself could cause muscle aches, obviously. But I just assumed that *most* of the time, other peoples bodies hurt like mine did. I didn’t realize that humans aren’t supposed to “just hurt” without a connected incident.

And when I try to explain this to able bodied people, their response is always the same. “Well, everyone’s back hurts sometimes.” “Everybody gets headaches sometimes.” “You’re not special just because you’re too lazy to walk. I still go to work when I don’t feel good.” And no matter how many times I try to say that No, you don’t get it, I *always* hurt, they still brush me off and dismiss me.

[loulovingho]

Bucktommy prompt: Tommy is dealing with chronic pain and Buck helps him through it.

Part 3 of my injured Tommy fic

If Tommy were being honest, there were some positives to being paralyzed. The first time he'd told Evan as much, he'd stared back at him with eyebrows raised and a face that said, “I can't wait to see where this is going.”

So Tommy had gone through the list he'd made in his head.

1. He always got the best parking spots.

2. Little old ladies now helped him in the grocery store.

3. People were constantly opening doors for him.

4. He'd get to board first on a plane... as soon as he and Evan figured out where they were going to go for their honeymoon.

5. Sometimes people let him cut in line.

6. He'd learned how to do some sick ass wheelies!

Buck had laughed along with his list, even adding a few himself.

7. Bigger hotel rooms.

8. Tommy's biceps were larger than Buck thought humanly possible.

9. If Buck got tired of walking, he could just sit on Tommy's lap and get a free ride.

And while these things were all good and true, there were plenty of things that made Tommy's new life far more difficult.

One of which were the body spasms.

He'd been warned about them in the hospital. Had a few of them before he'd been discharged. Learned how to deal with them, for the most part, through physical therapy. He'd also been put on muscle relaxants, sleeping pills, and antidepressants.

Which really only caused more problems, because he spent the better part of a month feeling so doped up that he was asleep more than he was awake.

His doctors changed doses and moved around schedules, trying to find the perfect balance, but Tommy hated the pills no matter what.

They didn't only impact his day to day life, but also his ability and desire for sex.

And God, as his body recovered and he and Buck settled into their new normal, he really wanted to want to have sex.

Adjustments already had to be made do to the reduction of sensation he felt around his pelvis. Things got weaker and weaker from there, reduced to no feeling at all in his legs.

They'd had their quickie wedding at the courthouse in February, followed by a ceremony with family the next month, and started planning a honeymoon in the summer. And that's when Tommy decided he was going to cut back on some of his medications, and cut others out completely. He was not going to spend his honeymoon in a half daze, not caring whether or not his drop dead gorgeous husband was naked on top of him.

Buck had protested at first. He'd made it clear that sex didn't mean everything to him. The things they still did do were pretty damn great, and it wasn't worth Tommy being in pain.

But Tommy insisted.

So they'd met with his doctors and come up with a plan. He could go off the sleeping pills, taking them only when needed. They'd reduce the antidepressant in increments. And muscle relaxants could be used as needed as well.

For the most part, everything went fairly smoothly. His spasticity would rear its ugly head from time to time, but it wasn't anything unmanageable.

Until, one night, it was.

He should have known it was going to be a bad night. He'd been restless and uncomfortable all day long. He'd go from his wheelchair, to the couch, to the wheelchair, to the dining room chair, to the wheelchair, to the bed, then back to the wheelchair.

He'd tried wheeling around the neighborhood, usually enjoying using his arms to push himself around, but today he just felt stiff.

The muscle relaxants in the kitchen cabinet had been calling his name, but he'd resisted. Evan was coming off a forty-eight hour shift tonight, and he'd already texted Tommy a picture of himself all sweaty, no shirt on, telling him he was gonna get himself all cleaned up for Tommy.

And Tommy wanted nothing more than to give him everything he wanted, because he wanted it too. Which was a damn good feeling to have back.

He hoped that sex would help his body relax.

It didn't.

He'd gotten through it though, with a few little twinges of pain in his chest and back. Nothing too severe. And with Buck on top of him, his body flushed red, head tossed back and mouth hanging open, the pleasure overrode the pain.

It didn't get really bad until after Buck had fallen asleep. Tommy wasn't sure how long he laid there, trying to stay as still as possible so he didn't wake Evan.

Even as the pain started to radiate up his back, he clenched his teeth to keep himself from groaning.

Then it went to his chest, causing his breath to hitch. The spasm made his back arch off the bed. If it didn't hurt so bad, he would have made some sort of exorcist joke.

His hands gripped onto the fitted sheet and he could feel a vibration.

His legs were probably shaking. He couldn't feel it, but it always happened when he had these spasms, even the minor ones.

He couldn't hardly get a breath. Not while fighting to be quiet. Not while his back and chest felt like they were becoming harder than a rock.

Finally, he unclenched his jaw and let out a half-moan, half-gasp.

“Ev- Evan,” he huffed out, releasing his grip on the sheet to smack his hand down on the bed. Tommy couldn't quite reach out far enough to touch him. Not when everything was seizing up like this. “Evan!” he repeated, louder this time.

Even in his deep sleep, Buck must've realized something was wrong. One second he was dead to the world, and the next he was jumping up, tossing the covers off of them both.

“What? What's wrong?” he said, clumsily reaching over to the nightstand and turning on the lamp.

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut against the light. He didn't feel like seeing himself right now.

It took Buck's brain a few seconds to catch up to the sight in front of him. When he finally registered what was happening, he headed for the door. “I'm gonna get your meds.”

“No!” Tommy yelled, sucking in a breath. “D- Don't.”

“Tommy, you need your muscle relaxant.”

“I- I can't.” He managed to bring a hand to his throat, hoping Evan understood.

“You can't swallow right now,” Buck replied. It wasn't a question.

“Mhm. Just... Just-”

“Massage?” Buck guessed, getting to Tommy's side of the bed in record speed. “You think that would help this time?”

Figuring out the correct responses to these episodes was always a guessing game. Sometimes touch could make it worse. Tommy was pretty sure nothing could make it any worse right now.

“Mm... Mhm.” His jaw was getting so tight he could barely open his mouth.

“I'm gonna move you onto your side.” Very carefully, Buck turned Tommy's rigid body so he was facing away from him. It was an awkward angle, and he was having to do most of the work to keep Tommy on his side, but he managed to get into a position where he could start to dig the palm of his hand into Tommy's back.

At first, he was so tight Buck worried he was going to hurt him even more by massaging him. But, Tommy's breathing seemed to become a little fuller, and the groaning died down a bit.

So Buck continued. He'd alternate between using his palm, his fist, his thumb, to dig into the muscles and get them to loosen.

After a few minutes, Tommy had quieted down completely. His body relaxed into the bed as he flopped the rest of the way onto his stomach. The shaking in his legs subsided. He no longer felt like he was going to shatter into a million little pieces.

Still, Buck continued his massage. He worked up Tommy's neck, massaged his head, down to his shoulders, his back. He even massaged over his legs and feet, letting Tommy know what he was doing so he wouldn't think Buck had just left the room.

After about half an hour, Buck rested his hand at the center of Tommy's back. “Feel better?” he asked quietly, unsure if Tommy was even still awake at this point.

“Mhm. Thank you,” Tommy replied. He paused, blushing before starting to ask, “Did I... Do I need..?” He couldn't quite get the words out. Did I piss myself? Do I need to get up so we can change the sheets and clean me up?

It happened sometimes, when his body seized up. And while he nearly had full bladder control back, everything went haywire when it came to his spasms.

“No, you're good,” Buck answered, and Tommy thanked whoever might be listening that they were able to read each other's minds. “Think you can turn back over now?”

“Yeah. Yes, I- you'll have to help me though.”

“Of course.”

Once Tommy was resting comfortably on his back, head propped up under two pillows, Buck stared down at him. “You knew it was gonna happen today, didn't you?”

Tommy sighed. There was no point in lying. “Yeah. Not this bad though.”

“And you didn't take a pill earlier?”

“No.”

Buck sucked in a shaky breath as he nodded. He didn't answer. Didn't say a word. He simply turned and headed into the bathroom.

Tommy listened as he turned the sink on. It ran for a while, then Buck was back by his side. He ran a warm washcloth over Tommy's face, Tommy closing his eyes and melting into the touch.

Once Buck had finished wiping off his face, he started on his chest.

Tommy blinked his eyes back open, studying Buck.

He was tense, eyebrows knitted together as he focused on cleaning the sweat from Tommy's body.

Tommy's eyes drifted to Buck's hand, shaking ever so slightly.

He reached out and placed his hand over Buck's, gently gripping his wrist. Finally, Buck made eye contact with him.

“Please don't be mad,” Tommy said, knowing it was unfair even as he said it. Still, he hated to see Evan disappointed. Wasn't sure if he could handle it right now.

But as he looked further into Evan's eyes, he didn't see anger.

He saw fear, and sadness. Red-rimmed, wet with unshed tears that were threatening to spill over.

“M'not mad,” he replied, clearing his throat. “I- I'm upset. I don't like seeing you in pain, Tommy.”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

“You don't have to be sorry. Just don't do it again. I can't... I can't enjoy being with you- having sex with you,” he clarified, “if I think you're hurting yourself for it.”

“I know, Evan. I just... I just wanted to be with you tonight. Wanted to feel good. Wanted to make you feel good.”

Buck tossed the rag onto the nightstand, sitting down on the bed beside Tommy. “You know what makes me feel good?” he started, resting two fingers under Tommy's chin so he couldn't look away. “Seeing you comfortable makes me feel good. Us enjoying dinner together makes me feel good. Going for a walk in the evening, watching movies, going out for ice cream, you holding me in your arms, getting to hold you in mine, kissing you for hours and hours. All those things, plus like a million more, make me feel good. Sex is fun, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it because damn you've got some moves,” he said, getting a smile out of Tommy, “but it's not everything to me. You are everything to me. I know we can't always prevent spasticity, but when we can, it would make me feel good if we did. Got it?”

Tommy nodded, giving himself a few seconds before verbally responding. “You can't just say stuff like that to me, you know,” he said, choked up. “I'm a softy now.”

Buck scoffed, rolling his eyes playfully. “You were always a softy,” he informed Tommy, leaning in for a kiss.

“I'm gonna go get your pills now, okay?”

“Okay.” Before Buck could get too far, Tommy reached out and grabbed at his hand. “Hey. Have I told you lately that I love you?”

Buck cocked his head, giving Tommy a glare. “If you start singing Rod Stewart to me, I will divorce you.”

“No, seriously, Baby,” Tommy said, keeping a straight face. “Have I told you there's no one else above you?”

“I already know a good attorney.”

“You fill my heart with gladness,” Tommy continued, grinning, “take away all my sadness.”

Buck wriggled his hand free of Tommy's grasp, heading out toward the kitchen. “If you hear the front door slam, I'll be back later for my things.”

Tommy's smile only widened as he yelled out, “You ease my troubles, that's what you do!”

[phoward89]

Based on this ask for my moot @swiftieblyth

“Darling, are you feeling unwell again?” Your husband, President Coriolanus Snow of Panem, asked you as he entered the residential wing of the Presidential Palace only to see you sprawled out on the sofa with a cold compress on your head in an attempt to ease your migraine. A migraine that's so bad that your body's shaking in pain and all of the drapes are drawn, leaving you in the dark to wallow in your misery.

“No.” You moan out in pain. “I’ve been suffering with a terrible migraine all day, Coryo.”

“My darling rose, perhaps we should call the doctor?” Coriolanus suggested while making his way over to your side.

“I don't need a doctor, Coryo. It's just a migraine.” You waved off your husband's concern as he kneels next to you. Truthfully, you hurt so bad that you just want to cry. But it's just a headache, all a doctor's going to do is prescribe headache and migraine medications and you've already got those in the medicine cabinet. Too bad you're too nauseous to take them tho.

“This isn't just a migraine. You've been getting frequent headaches too often lately. Not to mention your lack of appetite and nausea.”

“I'm fine, Coryo.” You stubbornly told your husband.

“You're not fine, my love. Don't even lie to me and say you are.”

“I know, Coryo.” You sigh defeatedly. Your husband always knows when you're lying. What is he, a human lie detector?

“This is concerning me. Really it is and you know I don't frighten that easily.” The President told you, gently stroking your arm up and down in a soothing manner.

“I know, it concerns me too," You honestly admit to the platinum blonde who's your other half in life. "but I already have migraine and headache medications; they don't work.”

“You have to take them for them to work, darling.” Scolded your husband.

“Okay, when I'm not too nauseous from the headaches and take them they don't really help.”

“That's why we need to get you to a doctor.”

“I know, but I don't want to see the doctor only for him to tell me what I already know- that I have migraines.”

Coriolanus loves you, he truly does, but sometimes you can be so stubborn. He'd feel better if you'd just agree to see the doctor, but you won't.

Your claim that it's just migraines is bullshit; both you and your husband know it too. You're been experiencing chronic fatigue, a tiny bit of brain fog, and tingling in your hands that makes you shake them out to get feeling back sometimes.

Those symptoms on top of the frequent headaches, nausea, and loss of appetite has Coriolanus worried. Of course you're concerned too, but your husband's downright scared to death. But maybe that's because he's been looking up things and playing Dr. Panoogle when it comes to your symptoms.

But President Snow’s read so many scary things while playing Dr. Panoogle that he's desperate to get you to a doctor. He can't have you dying on him from some disease or illness.

Coriolanus let out an exasperated sigh. “If your symptoms consist or worsen, I'm taking you to the doctor. Understood?”

“Understood.” You reply, causing your husband to gently kiss your temple before scooping you up and bringing you to your large bedroom for some proper rest in your king sized bed.

A few days later your health took a turn for the worse. Your headache was gone, but you were feeling fatigued. More than usual. Also you were having some problems with your motor skills. You're, for a lack of a better word, clumsy and stumbling over your own feet.

You're scared, but you don't want to bother your husband. Coryo's the President and he's been busier than usual lately since the games are a month and a half away. You know if you call him or send a maid to get him then he'll scrap all of his duties to tend to you. As much as you want your doting husband by your side, he's the President of Panem and has a duty to the country. Plus, he's the youngest president that's ever been elected, so if he puts off his duties it'll make him look like a slacker and your husband's anything but that.

So, you decide to deal with feeling poorly yourself. But then you suddenly feel dizzy when you rise from the sofa in order to go to the bathroom. You feel as if the room's spinning, as if you can see the air dancing around the floor.

And suddenly you faint; hitting the floor with a loud thud. A loud thud that, unfortunately, none of the staff heard.

Coryo's exhausted when he makes his way down the hall, towards the residential wing of the Presidential Palace. He can't wait to get home to you, his darling wife. You've been by his side since college, always supporting his dreams and goals. You always manage to bring a smile to his face when he's had a bad day. You also calm the rage coursing through him whenever he's pissed off about something work related.

Just being around you's enough to calm him, bring fresh air to his dark soul. The nation of Panem should be glad that you're the First Lady. If Coriolanus was married to anyone else, well…there would be a ton more executions and poisonings then what have occured.

That's for sure.

Coriolanus can't wait to see you, to have you in his arms or to be held in yours (either works for him), but when he enters the living room of your living quarters his blood freezes in his veins.

The sight of you passed on the floor is like a vice around his heart. You're motionless and he's terrified that he's going to lose you. Quickly, he rushed over to you and pulled you into his arms. “Please, baby, wake up. Open your eyes for me, darling.” Coriolanus begs, gently patting your cheek in an attempt to rouse you, as his icy eyes shine with fear.

Your eyelashes flutter as you begin to weakly open your eyes. “Coryo?” You ask, trying to make the shape of your husband out since your vision’s a bit spotty.

“I'm here, darling.” Coryo assured you. Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he tells you, “I'm taking you to the doctor, Y/N. You've been passed out for only gods know how long; you're getting checked out.’

“Okay.” You relent, knowing that you won't win against your husband on this. He told you before that if your health declines he's making you see the doctor.

The doctor examined you, listened to your list of symptoms, and ran some tests on you. Once the results were in, the doctor walked into your examination room with a few papers in hand.

Coming to a stop in front of the table you're sitting on, the doctor looks between you and President Snow before revealing, “First Lady Snow, I've come to the conclusion that you have both high cholesterol and an iron deficiency.”

“Isn't she a bit young for that?” Coriolanus asked in disbelief. How could you have those medical issues? Didn't people Grandma'am’s age have those kinds of issues?

“Yes, President Snow, the First Lady is young, but it seems that her medical issues with high cholesterol and iron deficiency is a genetic one.” The doctor told your husband before looking over at you. “Do your parents or siblings have any of these issues?”

“No.” You shake your head. “My mother and older brother don't have any problems.”

“Her father died in the war, during the Dark Days alongside mine.” Your husband told the doctor before the middle-aged man could even ask about your dad.

The doctor nodded, only to hand you a script and say, “That's a prescription for a statin. It's a medication to control your cholesterol.” He gave you another piece of paper that had some supplements written on it. “Those are over the counters you can buy for your iron deficiency. They're easily found in the vitamin aisle of the pharmacy.”

Looking between you and your husband, the doctor sighed. “Now, this next part might be a bit difficult since it concerns diet. I understand that you're the First Family of Panem, the equivalent of royalty in the eyes of the old world, but there's quite a few diet restrictions the First Lady has now because of her condition.” Handing some papers about foods you could eat, couldn't eat, and diet plans to your husband l, the doctor concluded his thoughts on the matter with, “I understand that you hold a lot of galas and dinner parties and I won't tell you what to serve, just that the First Lady doesn't eat anything she's not supposed to unless you want her having another episode due to out of order levels of cholesterol.”

“Don't worry, Dr. Murphy, she'll strictly adhere to whatever's in this diet plan.” Coriolanus assured your doctor, holding the papers in his hand up slightly. “Nothing she's not allowed to have will enter the Presidential Palace.”

Well, it's rare, but your medication gave you an allergic reaction. Yea…it gave you a bad cause of hives, which you had to get some antihistamines for. So, you couldn't take the cholesterol medication.

Your husband was livid that the statin gave you hives. He even threatened to have the doctor's head on a silver platter for malpractice, but you managed to calm him down enough not to kill poor Dr. Murphy. That doctor should be thanking his lucky stars that you have such a strong hold on your deranged husband, President Coriolanus Snow, otherwise he'd be pushing up daisies right now.

Since the cholesterol medication is off the table, you have to manage it all on your own with a strict diet. A diet that Coryo's also eating, despite the fact that he's as healthy as a horse.

It means a lot to you that your husband's supporting your journey to get healthier. That he eats the same foods as you and won't let anything you can't have come into your home. Not many husbands are so devoted, but yours is.

But, that also means that dinner parties have a strict menu now to. Because President Snow's making everyone-

EVERY-FUCKING-ONE

that enters the Presidential Palace for a gala or dinner party eat your family's special diet.

Mhm…

He's not having you get sick on his watch by accidentally eating one of your ‘bad’ foods that can make your cholesterol skyrocket.

Coriolanus needs you to get healthy so that you can start thinking about having a baby. Well, you've been together for so many years now, it's the only logical step. But before that can happen he wants to make sure that your cholesterol and iron levels are at a good reading.

He's so supportive and you're so grateful for him.

“Thank you, Coryo, for doing this diet with me and for just being such a good husband while I've been dealing with my health issues.” You tell your husband one night during dinner.

Your husband always returns to the residential wing of the Presidential Palace for mealtimes now. He feels it's his duty to make sure you're eating healthy and the only way to do that is to share meals with you all the time.

Coryo pauses in stabbing his vegetables with a fork, only to tell you, “My darling rose, you don't have to thank me for wanting you well. For wanting nothing but the best for my love.”

“I know, but not all husbands are like you and I just wanted you to know that I'm grateful for everything.”

Reaching across the table to grab your hand, the president smiles that special smile he only reserves for you. “You're everything to me. Made me love again when I never thought I'd be able to.” Coryo's icy blue eyes were twinkling as he admitted, “I'm completely lost without you, my love. I'll always be by your side to support you because I need you to be healthy and at your best.”

Your husband's words really touched your heart. To the public your husband's a cold, stoic, firm leader. But to you he lets down his guard, shows you a tender side. He's also a very devoted man to have as a life partner.

Coryo's been by your side during all of your hard times. Like during the times I'm University that you had some very bad spats and falling outs with some of your friends via social media. He's your biggest supporter, but hearing that he needs you by his side because you make him a better man just makes you swoon.

So, it seems that you both need each other. Perhaps that's why your love works so well. You make his heart beat and prevent it from rotting while he makes sure that you're healthy, both mentally and physically.

And right now you might be a little unwell, but you'll get better. With Coryo's love and support you'll be better in no time.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

i would love to have a poly!plastics fic where reader has chronic pain and wakes one day to a bad flare up of joint pain They/he won't show to class and the girls worry so they ditch class(they walk out mid class) to o find reader who is at home, under blankets and groaning in pain at every movement. each of the girls helps in a way, from massages, to kisses, to having reader's favorite movie ready to be watched!!!! llove ur suff

Cuddles, Praise & Movies! Oh My!

|| poly!plastics x he/they!reader

(I myself am poly)

|| Warnings; injured reader, chronic pain mentions and descriptions, swearing

|| Summary; poly!plastics x they/he reader; reader's got chronic pain and doesn't show up for class, girls notice and come and comfort them.

Requests open!

Started; September 10th

Finished; September 12th

~~

There’s a saying about how everyone is fighting internal demons. Your demons? Chronic pain. An absolute bitch in your life. It has prevented you from being able to do a hell of a lot. For those who live a chronic pain free life and don’t know what it is, feel blessed. Chronic pain is a pain that can happen anywhere on your body and it’s on going. Usually it will last for more than six months at a time. Even if the original cause of the injury is gone, the pain can be left behind. It’s essentially a pain that never fully leaves you. Some days are more manageable; while others it’s hard to even get out of bed.

You were experiencing one of those days. It was more in your upper body where you felt it, from your back to your arms; and because it reached your arms you were in so much pain that you didn’t even bother reaching for your phone. You had wanted to text your girlfriends, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move further than the next pillow.

So you also didn’t go to school that day. The school was well aware of how bad your chronic pain could get, and on the days you couldn’t make it you would usually borrow notes from either Gretchen or Cady. If you didn’t have a class with Gretchen, which was really only a single class, then you had Cady to help you out. Karen and Regina were in some of your classes as well, but they weren’t exactly the most reliable note takers. One time you made the mistake of asking Regina to do it and the note she gave you at the end of the day wasn’t exactly PG. And Karen… well, she actually (literally speaking) took someone else's notes. Since that’s what she’d thought you meant. She tried, you appreciated it. Gretchen and Cady were the only ones who actually did it for you.

Meanwhile, your girls were all in the one class the four of you usually shared together. By now it was fourth period, lunch had passed with no word from you or sighting of you in the halls. Gretchen had even asked around just to double check, but everyone told her they hadn't seen you today. The three were starting to worry as they shared a quiet conversation amongst themselves at the back of the class. Away from Mr Rapp's earshot.

"He's probably at home. No one's seen them today." Gretchen whispered, looking between Karen and Regina. Mostly Karen. Who seemed to be trying to fan herself with her pencil. Gretchen sighed," Baby, no. Get a scrap paper and make a fan, here hang on. Like this." She then proceeded to show Karen how to make a foldable paper fan, which Karen watched with intense interest. Regina just rolled her eyes.

"Come on, we're leaving." Regina stood, the other two shared a confused look and Gretchen grabbed her things without question. She had a pretty good idea what Regina was talking about and was more than happy to skip classes for you.

Karen, on the other hand, was confused as she stood and followed along through the desk rows; "Where are we going?"

"Yes, I would like to know that too." Mr. Rapp raised as eyebrow as the plastics headed for the door.

Gretchen glanced back at him to say something, but Regina grabbed her wrist and pulled her along

"Ignore him." The blonde demanded, a look of fierce determination on her face.

Mr. Rapp tried to ask them more questions, but the girls listened to Regina and ignored him completely.

Regina lead them to her jeep, digging around for her keys. Pulling them out, she unlocked her jeep and got in.

"Hurry up!" Regina honked at them.

Gretchen sighed, understanding Regina was just frustrated and worried about you. All three of them were. So she just listened, not wanting to cause her anymore stress as she took Karen's hand and gave a gentle pull. "Let's go, mama."

The two got in the back, keeping their hands together and fingers interlocked.

In no time at all (Regina may have been speeding just a little bit) they arrived at your place and pulled in the driveway.

Regina lead three into your house, not bothering to knock since they've been there countless times before. Besides, your parents weren't home because they had work and if you were in a chronic pain state like they assumed... you wouldn't be able to answer the door anyway.

They walked up the familiar stairs and into the hall with your room, Gretchen ran ahead at a light jog; throwing your door open. Her eyes immediately found your form, laying in a ball curled up in bed. She frowned and joined you, gently pulling you into her arms so your back pressed against her chest. "I've got you, baby boy." She murmured against your neck, right below your ear lobe. You shivered as you felt the vibrations from her words against you and instinctively leaned into her. Making a small sound.

"A message would have been nice." Regina's voice came from the other side of the bed. You felt it lower, then felt her arms wrap around you as she joined the cuddles.

"Sorry. Couldn't." You explained in a mumble, albeit a poor explanation. Regina sighed and you felt her nails scratch along your back in a soothing motion. It was one of your favourite feelings.

That's when you noticed Karen hadn't joined you yet. You then glanced up from where your head had been buried in Gretchen's shoulder; scanning your room for her.

Karen was over by your desk, getting your laptop started up with a small smile on your face. You thought it was adorable.

"Karen?" You murmured, getting her attention. She immediately looked at you.

"Y/N?"

"What're you doing?"

"Getting a movie ready!" Her small smile became a grin as she pulled out some cd cases, flipping through them. You noticed that each one was one of your comfort movies and your heart melted just a little bit. The gesture was appreciated.

You picked the third one she mentioned, which happened to be Narnia; the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe. One of your childhood favourites. She put it into the laptop disk holder then picked up the laptop and joined the three of you in bed, curling up with Gretchen.

You gave a soft smile as she set the laptop in Gretchen's lap so it was closer to you. She didn't want to put it in your lap because she wasn't sure how much pain you were in; and she didn't want to risk adding to it.

As the movie played, you felt Regina get up and turned to look at her with a pout.

"I'm going to the bathroom. Relax." She told you before leaving, Gretchen rested a reassuring hand on your shoulder, giving your cheek a kiss.

You huffed a little and went back to watching the movie with your girls.

It was just about the scene where Lucy enters the wardrobe for the first time when Regina returned. Holding a tray of snacks.

"I thought you went to the bathroom?" Gretchen questioned.

Karen gasped," Did you find them in the bathtub?! Sometimes that happens to me."

Gretchen gave her a look of confusion and concern but didn't say anything. Figuring it wasn't a big deal.

Regina narrowed her eyes at Karen," No. I lied. Surprise." She muttered, holding the tray out to you. You could just tell she was at least a bit embarrassed by what she did.

You took a closer look at the tray and noticed a lot of the things there were snacks with clearly you in mind. She had all your favourites. There was some stuff for Gretchen and Karen, as well as herself too but mainly it was a tray made for you. She set it down in front of you when you didn't grab it and curled back in next to you.

"Thank you." You whispered to her, and if you weren't mistaken... you saw Regina George blush.

"Whatever." She muttered.

The three of you sat and watched the movie, enjoying your snacks; about half way through Gretchen offered to give you a massage. Asking where it hurt. You pointed it out to her and she happily helped you out, wondering if she was doing okay as her hands worked on the spot. You nodded, looking rather relieved as you began to relax.

She worked your muscles so well that you eventually fell asleep.

Last thing you remember feeling was Regina's kisses on your neck, Gretchen's hands on your shoulders and the voice of the White Witch yelling something in the movie.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for hanging out with someone less in-person, and more online?

Here me out first please.

My buddy Austin (he/him) and I usually hang out at least every other week, if not every week. We've been doing this for the last few years after we both got more conformable doing in-person hangouts after the covid vaccines reached the general public in our country.

About a year ago, Austin was in a car accident (not a major one, don't worry) and walked away with a mild concussion (doctor's description). Ever since that car accident, Austin has been super sensitive to sound. In his words, walking across his floor in socks sounds like elephant stomping. His floor is carpet. Typing on a phone is so loud and distracting he can't hear anything else. Birds outside his house sound like they're chirping directly into his ear. He vents to me often that having a regular-volumed conversation sounds so loud it's painful to him.

When I'm over at his house, I try to be as quiet as I can. I'm careful to soft-step around the house and not take my shoes off. I try to shuffle or slide through the kitchen and other rooms that are not carpet so I make less noise. We whisper or half-whisper half-speak to each other in conversation. Movies we have subtitles on and the volume turned down to almost 0%. But Austin still looks like he's in pain by the end of a couple hour hang-out. Sometimes he'll get up and put in earplugs and then come back to continue the hangout. I feel really bad that he's putting himself through so much.

The last few months, instead of always hanging out in-person, I've been suggesting doing something virtual and letting Austin decide which he wants. I figure that if we're gaming, he can wear his earplugs or mute the game and we can use game chat or text each other to communicate. Same with watching movies, we can both adjust our volumes to our comfort levels (and leave subtitles on still. I don't mind them). Sometimes he wants to just do things online, and sometimes he insists on hanging out in-person. It's been about 60/40 online to in-person so far.

We hung out last weekend and first Austin said let's hang out in-person, but the night before we were supposed to hang out, he told me he rather hang out online this time. I was cool with it, but when I let my roommate Geoff (who is also good friends with Austin) know that actually I'd be home most of the day Saturday and answered Geoff's "why are you hanging out with Austin online again?" with "i don't know, Austin probably wants a quiet weekend instead", my roommate started accusing me of infantilizing Austin by hanging out online instead of in-person, that I'm abandoning Austin because his "auditory disablility is too inconvenient for fragile able-bodied feelings" (Geoff's words), and how since Austin hasn't explicitly said that in-person hanging out is too loud for him, then I'm being ableist by assuming things are too loud when he hasn't directly said that I am too loud. I argued that I don't think of Austin as lesser, I just don't want to cause him any unnecessary pain, and it's pretty obvious when things are too loud for him without words, because you can read the "Make it stop" / "No more" expression on his face. But Geoff doubled down really hard and told me i should be ashamed of treating Austin like he's incapable of making his own choices.

I was pissed and just walked out with my laptop. We did our movie day with me on the local library wifi instead. I don't think for a second I've taken away Austin's ability to choose, since I let Austin make the call on in-person or online!! But I'm also completely able-bodied. I haven't even experienced a temporary disability-experience like needing crutches during injury recovery or anything. Geoff has a chronic pain and fatigue disorder, so he has more experience with microaggressions than I do. So I don't know if I'm right about this being a non-issue, or if Geoff is right about me being ableist against Austin's noise sensitivities. It keeps eating at me now, and I don't want to bring this up with Austin since I already know he's really insecure about his new volume tolerance levels. Am I an asshole for doing online hangouts with Austin instead of sticking to only in-person stuff?

[southerntigress]

Love u 4-ever

So this is a little fluff that popped into my mind when I saw Courtney's post about Nikki leaving her love notes on Instagram and so I thought I would also throw in a idea I had floating around where Nikki would take care of his girl who had chronic back pain and stuff. Just a little something different than what I usually write. Let me know what yall think and if yall would like more stories like this.

I had just woken up and rolled over to see that Nikk was already up. No surprise there he was a early riser. I stretched and looked over to see what time it was and as I did i saw a note sitting on my table I went to reach for it when a sharp pain hit me in my back taking my breath " holy shit that hurt" I said to myself

I gave myself a minute before trying to move again. I have scoliosis that has cause chronic back pain over the years it's gotten worse as I've gotten older and when I'm in a bad flare up I can barely do anything, it seems like today is going to be one of those days.

I sigh and get up picking up the note it read " Baby my ❤️ is so full.... I love u 4-ever. - huz" I smile to myself I love getting these kinda things from Nikki. We have been married 10 years and it still amazes me how romantic he can be. I make my way downstairs slowly, holding my back as I go. I go in the kitchen where I find Nikki sitting at the bar drinking coffee and reading something on his laptop.

Nikki looks up at me taking his glasses off

"Good morning baby" he says

I stretch out and lean across the counter with a groan " morning" I say

"Rough morning?" He asks

I nod " Uh huh, woke up and could barely move my back hurts so bad" I say

He gets up and comes to stand behind me

" Sorry I'll try to be more gentle next time" he teases

I giggle "you're terrible Sixx"

" I know but you love it" he laughs

"I do" I say

"By the way I found the note thank you baby" I say

Nikki leans down against me and kisses me I kiss him back

He pulls away "you're welcome baby, you know you're really hot all bent over this counter makes me wanna pound u into it" he says lowly

I lift my head up and look at him with a raised eyebrow " I like being bent over and pounded, if I wasn't in so much pain right now I would definitely take u up on that offer" I say

He smirks " I know u would"

"I think I'm going to lay out by the pool for a bit maybe some vitamin D will help my back feel better" I say as I raise up

Nikki looks at me with a smirk "Vitamin D is probably what through your back out"

I swat at at him " Get out of here sixx u are a terrible man" I say laughing

He just laughs harder

I finally make it outside and I'm starting to relax and feel a little better.

My phone goes off I pick it up and see I have a text from Nikki I open it

"Come inside I have something to help u feel better"

I get up and head upstairs to our bedroom and Nikki meets me at the door

" I ran u a nice warm bath with some bath salts to maybe help with the pain and soothe your back" he smiles

I walk in the bathroom and there's candles lit around the tub and rose petals and nice warm bubble bath awaited me.

I turn to Nikki " baby this is so sweet I love u so much thank u"

"It's my pleasure, I'll leave u to it" he says and goes to walk out

I stop him "join me"

" I would love to but baby this is all for u, u deserve it now get in before it gets cold" he says

" yes sir" i say and salute him

He just laughs and shakes his head as he closes the door

I strip and get in the hot water feels amazing on my aching bones I relax and sit back.

After awhile I get out and dry off wrapping a robe around I head into the bedroom to get into some comfy clothes. As I walk in I see Nikki laying on the bed.

He turns his head and looks at me " enjoy your bath?"

"I did, thank u again baby" I say and kiss him

He pulls me on top of him and we continue to make out til we have to pull away for air.

" lay down and undress I'm going to give u a back massage" Nikki says

"Oh bless u child" I laugh and roll off of him

He just rolls his eyes at me when I said that

He massage my back and I have to say it was probably the best back massage I have ever gotten.

After he was done he laid beside me and pulled me close we cuddled one another til we was both fast asleep.

[lastoneout]

I don't really know exactly why I'm posting this, I guess I just want to share my joy, but y'all...the nerve block worked. My migraine went down a little over the night so I was only at like a 1.5-2 but I swear to god the second they were done EVERY SINGLE PART of my head stopped hurting. The only pain I'm feeling rn is at the injection site and a smidge in my jaw, but that's not a huge deal bcs I know the steroids take a long time to do their thing and I usually have pain around the injection site when they do this in my back, plus I did already suspect something like 10% of my migraines aren't entirely due to my neck, but like...it worked. It fucking worked.

I've been living with chronic migraines my entire life, and in the last five years, they've gotten so bad that I can't work and have to cancel streams and hangouts with friends all the time. I have migraines more days than I don't and I've never been able to find out what my trigger is aside from not sleeping well and eating lays potato chips(rip I miss them so much) or gluten or being on my period?? and on some days I'm in so much pain I can't even feed myself or shower. 8-10 is the norm, they don't go lower on their own, they NEVER go away on their own, no matter how much time I spend lying in bed in the dark with icepacks on my face. My migraine rescue meds don't always work, or they work for a day and then it comes back, and I seem to be fucking Immune(tm) to Excedrin and ibuprofen. All that together has legit been ruining my entire life.

And I am not even a little ashamed to admit that once they were done and asked how I felt I broke down sobbing in the exam room because it WORKED. Instantly. Years of pain and agony and no help from my doctors, of blaming a medical condition that treatment hasn't fixed, telling me to limit screen time and lose weight, forcing me to try 50 different medications none of which help, of spending long nights in the ER hoping they can fix me even though it's typically a 50/50 chance....and now it's over. I don't have to do that anymore. They fixed it. They fixed it.

I'm crying right now as I write this. I never thought this was possible. Like I believed that it was my neck and my doctors agreed, but I was so worried that this would all be for nothing, I didn't think it would work, I know most disabled people dream of finding the One Thing that's causing all their problems even though most of us never do, but I guess luck decided to smile on me this day, this is what's causing my problems and it's treatable. It's over. I found the path out of this hell and it was the right one. I don't even know what to do, what to say. I'm so happy I can't even be happy, all I can do is cry because the hardest part is over.

There's still work to be done, but the path is clear. And honestly @ any gods that are listening, please grant this to my fellow disabled people. They deserve to feel this, we all do.

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! I have a character that has a slight limp due to injury, Im not sure if it counts as a disability or if this is the correct place to ask since what I find online differs a lot, but I figured it wasn’t wrong to ask. I’d like to know if there’s some advice from someone with personal experience. I know it depends on many factors, like the type of injury, the severity, etc. But I think all kind of input would be nice! I’m specially interested in difficulties people don’t usually consider (Does your bad leg bothers you even if you’re sitting down? Is there something that aggravates it that isn’t usually considered?) and misconceptions people may have (How much can you actually endure? Can you actually push yourself to do something (like run) or is it straight up imposible?). Most of the things I find online are about cures and hypotheticals so I’d like to know more about the mechanics about living with one. Any advice would be useful! Thanks!

Hello!

Yes, a limp can be a disability, especially if the underlying cause of it affects the person in other ways too. That being said, there are people who have permanent limps that wouldn't consider themselves to be disabled, which may be why you've found some conflicting information online.

To give some context for my further answers: I have a pretty bad limp in my right leg, which was caused by a past injury and has only gotten worse over time due to my chronic pain and issues with my joints -- especially those in the lower half of my body. I use a cane full time because of it and have used a wheelchair before when it gets bad.

You are right that it depends a lot on somebody's specific situation such as the cause and severity of their limp, but it also depends on other factors such as the part of their leg that is affected and any other conditions they may have.

Keep in mind that a limp is always the result of something, not the cause.

In my case, it's from my past injury to the leg as well as my chronic pain and other condition(s). However, the root cause isn't always pain in the leg or even in the leg at all. A limp can also be caused from an injury to the spine/back or other places in the body, chronic conditions such as arthritis, limb differences such as a leg length discrepancy, several neurological conditions, and a whole host of other things.

Because of all the different causes of a limp and the different factors that can impact somebody's situation, people's experiences can differ greatly. I can only speak from my own experience, so please keep that in mind.

Now, to address some specific questions you've asked:

Does your bad leg bother you even if you're sitting down?

I'm at the point where I don't typically notice my pain unless it's much better or much worse than usual. It's just a constant sensation in my life that I've gotten used to (For lack of a better term).

That said: I find that my bad leg is usually bothering me regardless of the position, though sitting or laying down is almost always better for it. It doesn't stop the pain entirely, but it does help to ease it and prevent my leg from feeling stiff or cramping.

With that in mind, it depends on how I'm sitting. Having my leg folded up (Such as when sitting cross legged) or sitting on my leg is the worst, even compared to standing, especially when in close quarters such as the back or middle seat in a car.

Most of the time, I'm fine with sitting in a chair normally or even cross legged with my bad leg pulled up but having my leg stretched out is better since it doesn't start to cramp or seize up.

The best position I've found is sitting normally on a chair with my bad leg outstretched and propped up slightly on a stool or a lower chair. Propping it up too high (Such as straight out or above the chair I'm sitting on) causes my knee to overextend, which makes my pain worse, while propping it up too low is just an awkward position and doesn't help.

On days when it's worse, sitting down doesn't do much for me except stop the pain from actively getting worse. These are usually the days where I can't stand for longer than a minute or two unassisted and for around five minutes with my cane or another support.

Is there something that aggravates it that isn't usually considered?

To be honest, I rarely see characters with limps in the media I consume so I'm not sure what kind of things are already considered as it is. That said, here are some of the factors I find make it worse:

Overuse: Being on my feet or pushing myself the previous day can cause the next day to be much worse. Before I stopped being able to play sports, I found that my limp was always worse after a hockey game or a particularly active practice. I'm still fairly active even without organized sports (Though I do play wheelchair basketball on occasion) and I now find that my leg is worse and my limp is more pronounced after I've been hiking or walking around.

Underuse: On the other hand, spending the day in bed or in one position also doesn't do me any good. My leg begins to ache and cramp up if I can't stretch it frequently. In general, a good balance for me has always been shorter, frequent walks throughout the day or one longer but slow-paced walk.

Standing Still: This may sound counter-intuitive but standing still (Or generally keeping my leg in the same position for so long) actually aggravates my leg more than being active does. Walking around allows me to move and stretch my leg out. Keeping it in one position too long makes the pain worse and causes it to seize up and cramp. If I'm able to, I'll usually try walking back and forth or even just taking a few steps but sometimes this isn't possible when waiting in line.

Weather: When there's a sudden shift in the weather, especially in the air pressure or when it becomes damp, my leg tends to ache more and be more stiff. Usually this is when a big storm is coming or there's a drastic shift in temperature but even just cold or damp weather in general makes it worse. I don't fully understand the science behind it myself, but this article [Link] goes into it a bit.

Other Injuries/Pain: Though this isn't something people tend to think about, having pain in other parts of the body (Especially the opposite leg) can make my limp worse. If it's pain in a completely different part of the body such as a headache or stomach ache, it usually has no effect. For pain in my back, arms, or other leg, however, it can have a big effect. This is usually because my bad leg has to compensate in some way. This could mean putting more weight on my bad leg to take weight off of a sprained ankle on my 'good' leg, walking with a slightly different gait to avoid worsening back pain, or needing to use my cane on the other side to compensate for shoulder/arm pain.

Poor Footwear: This is one I am... very guilty of. My combat boots don't have the best support but they're what I have right now and I can’t afford better footwear or orthotics right now. This is to say, wearing poor footwear such as flipflops, sandals, or other shoes without proper support will make a limp worse. I don't personally notice much of a difference with my boots since I use them all the time regardless but wearing flipflops is very difficult because I have no stability in them.

Something to note is that sometimes bad days can come on with seemingly no cause at all. Though I don't doubt that there is something influencing it in the background, it's not always possible to pinpoint what it is.

How much can you actually endure? Can you actually push yourself to do something (Like run) or is it straight up impossible?

On a good day, I'm sure I could run for a bit if I absolutely had to but I would certainly be paying for it later. Running puts a lot of strain on my leg and I know from experience that on a very bad day, I wouldn't be able to get very far without my leg giving out, even if it was a life or death situation. I'm unsure how adrenaline would effect that, however.

Something to keep in mind is that for a lot of people with limps and/or chronic pain (Myself included), the pain is rarely linear. There are days where I feel great and I barely notice it and there are other days where I can hardly walk without wanting to cry from the pain. And I have a fairly high pain tolerance.

In general, I am fairly fast with my cane. I'm able to walk at the same speed as most people my age and I generally tend to outpace them on a good day. My cane helps me avoid putting too much weight/strain on my leg and also helps with my balance issues. Without my cane, I'm usually in too much pain and don't have the stability to walk normally.

Whenever I do have to push myself to do something (Such as navigating the stairs during a fire drill or carrying my gecko's terrarium into my room), I try to get ahead of the pain if it doesn't show up immediately. Ice packs help to mitigate any swelling or pain that might come and I usually have pain meds with me to take just in case. I usually take a Tylenol (Or the generic version) and an Advil (Or the generic version). This is at the advice of my doctor to help with my specific issues, I strongly advise against mixing pain meds without approval from your doctor.

Phew, that was more than I thought I'd type about this! Hopefully some of this is helpful, I'm also happy to answer any more questions you might have!

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus

[wangxianficrecs]

Holding shreds by barisan

Holding shreds

by barisan (@barisan-no)

T, 5k, Wangxian

Summary: An accident on a practical lecture has the Lan realising the state of Wei Wuxian's body. Or, the angsty body swap AU my soul needed. Kay's comments: Barisan once again fixes things by putting Wei Wuxian through it! Only in this story, it's also Lan Wangji who suffers, because oops, accidental body swap during the Cloud Recesses Study Arc. Loving the Wei Wuxian Whump in this story and how the Lans unite behind Wei Wuxian and immediately agree that he can't go back to Lotus Pier. Inspired by a @angstymdzsthoughts prompt. Excerpt: “Wangji?” Lan Qiren walks up to them, looking at Lan Zhan… Lan Zhan in his body. “Shufu-” Lan Zhan breathes with what can only be a grimace. “You are in pain.” Lan Qiren notes. “Did the curse cause more than an exchange of souls?” He hovered, worry now clear in his voice. “I don’t know.” Lan Zhan looked back at Wei Wuxian. “It hurts.” There may be a question there. ‘Are you in pain too?’ “I… I don’t-” Wei Wuxian took stock of his own state. He rolled his shoulders, gasping as he didn’t feel them pop. His back didn’t hold it’s usual tightness and his ribs didn’t shock him with the deep pinch every other breath. “I…” It doesn’t hurt! He tries to say. “Ha… Hahaha…” He laughs breathlessly. He brings his trembling hands to his face, all ten fingers are straight! “HAHAHAHA!” It turns into howling. Fuck. Wei Wuxian bends over, clutching his stomach as he tries to reign in a laughter that is not quite his own. His eyes sting at the lack of control over a body he doesn’t know. A body that doesn’t hurt. After a few more moments, laughter fades into chuckling and dies into breathless gasps. His sight is blurry and the world feels faded.

pov wei wuxian, canon divergence, cloud recesses study arc, wei wuxian whump, body swap, no sunshot campaign, angstymdzsthoughts, chronic pain, hurt wei wuxian, hurt lan wangji, implied/referenced child abuse, jiang family bashing, good uncle lan qiren, good sibling lan xichen, wei wuxian has self-esteem issues, wei wuxian is bad at self-care, angst with a happy ending, fluff, getting together, smart wei wuxian

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[dullgecko]

I'm back again with my chronic illness agenda :)

After most battles, half of the Bad Kids are usually out of commission for a bit until they are able to rest, regardless of how bad the fight actually was. Adaine usually crashes first, with migraines from all of the divination magic. Riz is notorious for pushing too far which causes the chronic pain in his hands to flare up, but it normally takes a few more minutes for it to really hit him. Gorgug usually keeps going long enough to make sure everything is wrapped up and everyone else is home safe, and then crashes really badly.

It wasn't until the night yorb trip that anyone else even knew about how much Gorgug crashed after fights. It wasn't that he was trying to hide it, he just genuinely thought it was normal for complete exhaustion to knock him out for hours/days after raging during a fight (the purple worm during the last stand had a lot to answer for in terms of the week long flare up that followed that particular fight).

He figured that raging took a lot of energy, and the halved damage had to go somewhere, so why wouldn't it end up in a level or two of exhaustion. (He wasn't technically wrong - first generation half-orcs were more prone to chronic fatigue and pain conditions, but that didn't mean it was normal).

They found out the hard way that using a greater restoration to remove that exhaustion was only a temporary fix, and the fatigue just came back twice as bad.

The second fight they got into during the Night Yorb quest was when they finally noticed. Their barbarian had been so thoroughly wiped out by the fight that he couldnt string two sentences together let alone operate a vehicle.

Gorgug was their designated driver, Fig was out of commission (she'd been hit by SOMETHING during the fight that had left her blinded) and NO ONE was going to let Fabian or Kristen near the wheel of the van. Adaine they might have trusted to drive but she was trying VERY hard not to throw up from the migraine that had come on after the fight.

They had to get all of them to the nearest town for an antidote for Fig (Kristens magic couldnt shift it but the locals apparently had a remedy) and with Gorgug too tired to drive it had fallen to the only other person they could trust behind the wheel.... and also the only person who couldnt see over the dashboard AND operate pedals at the same time.

While Gorgug tried to sleep off some of the exhaustion the rest of his party had done... surprisingly well. Yes the thought of their rogue using an elaborate array of mirrors, mage hand and nearly all of his strength to push down pedals was TERRIFYING if you thought about it too hard but he was actually really good at it. Riz may have looked like he'd run a marathon by the end of it with all the exertion but hey, he didn't crash or go in the wrong direction or have a panic attack and the van got to the town in one piece so he was doing better than the rest of his party in their attempts to drive.

Gorgug they'd woken up long enough for him to go inside and crash in an ACTUAL bed once they found an Inn. Kristen had taken Fig away to get her sight restored and Adaine had gone to take a very hot bath to try and ease her migraine.

Fabian had been left to pay for their rooms which he was happy to do because he felt rather useless at the moment with everyone else doing things. He did manage to find a job for himself though, when he returned to their rooms and caught Riz soaking his hands in a bowl of nearly scalding hot water in an attempt to ease some of the pain from overuse both during the fight and driving. The entire party had gotten very good at hand massages and Riz had almost fallen asleep while getting one by the time Kristen and Fig got back.

[its-your-mind]

okay. I’ve slept and I’ve stared at the ceiling and I think I’m finally ready to put all of this into words. I’ve been building up this post in my head… basically since the moment we learned about Ashton’s chronic pain, and I think this episode finally helps me synthesize all of it. Taliesin was on FIRE this episode. (also this got way longer than I thought, so it’s going behind a read more. I just have so many FUCKING emotions about this punk rock.)

I know I’ve mentioned this a few times before, but I, like Ashton, have full-body constant chronic pain. Sometimes it gets worse with extended physical activity, sometimes it just gets worse out of nowhere. Some days are good, which means the parts of me that hurt aren’t getting in the way of me doing things too much, but there are never, ever days without pain.

I think Ashton fucking nailed it here:

And here’s the thing about background noise. Most of the time, you don’t even notice it’s there. Your brain filters it out, takes it and files it away as something that doesn’t need any conscious focus. But sometimes, something that is normally background noise can become completely overwhelming - think a ticking clock that you don’t usually notice, but when you’re waiting for something, it becomes all that you can hear, and your brain can't pull its attention away.

And, at least for me, chronic pain can sometimes become like an endlessly ticking clock in my perception. Obviously, my body is in pain, which is not fun in and of itself, but on the bad body days, my mental functions become severely limited as well. My memory is shot, my thoughts come slowly, and it’s so much easier for bright lights and loud noises to cause my brain to bluescreen for a few seconds.

There’s just too much sensory input for the brain to process.

And on those days, it can just be easier to shut down. Lay down in bed and not move or think, because moving and thinking is just too hard. And when resting isn't an option, there’s a pretty significant percentage of my brain that’s just focused on trying to filter out that background noise of pain, and it becomes so difficult to function as normal. One clock might not take up too too much brain power, but imagine if there were five. Ten. A few dozen.

I’ll get back to Ashton in a minute, I promise.

The brain might be able to turn those ticking clocks into background noise, but it’s harder to do that the louder they are. Your thoughts get sidetracked because it’s almost impossible to focus on anything but those clocks, and even when you’re able to ignore them for a bit, it doesn’t take much for you to be reminded that they’re still there, and your mind turns back to that ticking, ticking, ticking…

When you’re in pain, you learn to stay tense and alert. You economize your words and movements, because you only have so many before your body makes it too hard to function. You have to build up necessary boundaries for yourself, because without them, you’ll become a shell of a person, disconnected from a body that's just... not fun to be inside of.

And it’s so easy to let those boundaries become a permanent, defensive wall, built to keep the world at bay, because the world is where the pain comes from.

Ashton’s chronic pain might not have started until their fall from the balcony, but he’s never lived a life without emotional pain.

And so you have this person who has lived through so many awful things who should be dead several times over, who now lives with this constant, insistent, physically painful reminder that the world is cruel and harsh, and even your family can’t be trusted to keep you from getting more hurt.

So yeah. He’s fucking pissed off at the whole world. He’s lived through some fucking bullshit, so can you fucking blame him for building up walls around himself? How the fuck is he expected to survive in this world without defenses?

So he builds those necessary defenses that anyone with chronic pain has to get good at building, something to deafen the feeling of constant pain, and he makes them into a permanent fixture of his personality. They turn these necessary internal defenses into a hostile fortification, into anger, into rage, into a weapon that can hurt the world just as much as the world has hurt them.

And then, the Hells.

All of a sudden, they have a new family.

And the thing is. The thing! Is!! Ashton has always always been someone who cares so much, someone who loves their family recklessly and totally, even after the Nobodies abandoned them to die on the ground beneath Hexum's house. They’re protective, they take people in, they stand up for the people who can’t stand up for themselves. But it’s always been from behind the safety of that wall.

And the walls have started to come down.

The world might be cruel and painful and fucking shitty, but dammit, there are still things in it worth saving.

Letting people see your vulnerabilities might lead to more pain, but isn’t it just… so liberating? To not have to put so much energy into keeping those walls up?

These people. His new family. They’ve opened up to each other. They’ve all shared some of their darkest secrets, they’ve trusted each other with their lives, they’ve gone above and beyond, over and over again, to make sure that not one of their people is left behind, not ever. No matter what.

So now, for maybe the first time in his life, Ashton has something solid to stand on that he didn’t have to build for himself. He doesn’t have to maintain his walls with these people, because his family knows how to tread carefully, and they all do their best not to do anything that might inadvertently cause each other more pain.

Because here’s the thing about chronic pain. To a certain point, you just have to accept that shit is going to fucking hurt, and you’re gonna do it anyway. Instead of living in daily, constant fear of making the pain worse, you evaluate the things that you want to do with your time, and decide whether or not they’re worth the pain that they’ll cause.

Ashton started throwing himself at physical danger almost as soon as he was off Milo’s workbench. He’s no stranger to choosing things that will increase the pain in his body.

But the pain in their mind? Fuck that. We’re not going to look too closely at what the fuck is in there, because that is a fucking bridge too far.

Let their brain process the pain, and keep the rest of their shit on lock.

But now… they’ve let their family in, past those walls. They quite literally let Imogen and FCG go into their mind, multiple times, to find the things that they’ve buried deep, deep inside because they don’t want to look too closely at them. They didn’t have room in their own brain to process that pain.

But now… they’ve learned about where they came from. They know where their roots are. But more importantly, they know who their foundation is. They know that it’s safe to let these people in past those walls, because the Hells are people he can trust with all of himself, not just the solid and dangerous exterior.

And so now that they know that, it’s freed up so much more room in their mind to focus on actual, tangible goals!

He’s able to take time and space for his family, just as they’ve all taken time and space for him.

Now that the Hells have become his firm ground, he’s able to become theirs.

He knows how to be a wall, a tank, a shield. He knows how to deal with physical pain.

But now, they’re learning how to be a rock, a safe place, a firm foundation. That’s harder. That’s more complicated. That involves vulnerability, and the ability to sit and talk and process and think. That’s not something they’re always able to do, but they know now that they can do it. He’s learned how from the rest of his family, from seeing the ways that they all support him.

The world still fucking sucks. The gods have never seemed to give a single fuck about Ashton Greymoore, and he’s spent his whole life being thrown away and cast aside by the people who were supposed to take care of him. His body is wracked with the constant reminder of betrayal and abandonment. But now, they have something new to fight for. They don’t have to fight to save the gods. They don’t need to aspire to anything that lofty. But their family is here, dammit, and they’re not going to fucking lose them and so…

[karatekels]

(Before you get mad because my Master List isn't currently my pinned post, you can find it here)

Well, I was hoping to give you all a more positive, happy update... but now you get a mixed bag.

I found out yesterday that my beautiful, wonderful PhD supervisor got my graduate funding extended for another year, meaning that all the extra work that I've either done or signed up to do this year is just a nice, extra little windfall that means I don't have to worry about money as aggressively as I have been, so that's a win! I cried happy tears for a very long time.

Unfortunately, this week my chronic fatigue which has been slowly going away over the past year has decided to start coming back.

I've touched on my chronic fatigue and pain a bit here before, but the gist of it is we don't really know what's causing either or how to treat either. At least I'm in Canada, so I haven't had any medical debt relating to this, but on the downside our medical systems are so backlogged I haven't been able to delve into very many tests to really get to the bottom of it. I won't rant about the pain because I've been dealing with it for most of my life and, as shitty as it is, I can usually still coexist with it, but the fatigue...

OH, THE FUCKING FATIGUE.

For me, my fatigue isn't wanting to sleep in longer in the morning or something I can chase away with coffee, or something I can just yawn through as I go about my day - it's an infuriating and debilitating clusterfuck. It usually means I don't sleep well during the night, and I will randomly be unable to function for hours at a time. I can't really think properly, my limbs will go numb, and I usually just slug out on the couch until it passes. No amount of sleep will make the sleepiness go away, and when it comes on, there's nothing I can do (it's a good thing that I don't drive, because if it came on while I was behind the wheel I would pretty much have to immediately pull over, lock the doors and pass out).

The good news (as I'm trying to see it, anyway) is that between my body being largely useless and my finances no longer being as much of an issue as anticipated, I can - and have to be - a bit gentler with myself, meaning I'll probably be at home more than I already am, and looking for a way to escape.

aka "MORE DAYDREAMING AND SUBSEQUENT WRITING!"

I can't promise I'll be churning things out the way I was last summer (jeez, remember last summer? what the hell was I thinking...) but I can pretty much guarantee I'll be writing a lot more than I have been so far this year, and I hope you're looking forward to that possibility as much as I am!

Basically, I just wanted to check in to thank you all for your patience, explain my lack of writing this year, and encourage those of you who are healthy to really appreciate it. I turn 30 in less than two months, and so much of my life (and pretty much my entire adult life) has been impacted by these unpredictable, unfixable problems and it really sucks. So, if you can do a cartwheel, a wheelkick or some kind of jump for joy, please do it for yourselves, and know that I'd join you if I could!

Thanks for reading, and we'll be back to your regularly scheduled smut soon, ya filthy animals!

- KarateKels

---

Tl;dr: Good and bad things are happening but hopefully both mean you'll be getting more writing from me?

[the-guilty-writer]

Seven

Aaron Hotchner x platonic!GN!reader

Summary: “No one should have to function like this. Someone should fight for you. You deserve for someone to fight for you.” 

A/N: Apparently I just really like naming my work after numbers. Prompt from my poll a few weeks ago! Ya'll picked Hotch and I’m not mad about it at all! I don’t usually do dedications, but I think this is worthy of one. The piece revolves around physical chronic pain, but the emotions in this can be applicable to many situations: so to all those who need it, i hope you find comfort in this piece.

CW: Reader experiences chronic pain, feelings of unworthiness, takes medication

---

Seven.

On a scale from one to ten, your pain was a seven. On normal days is was a four, maybe three if you were lucky. You called your doctor if it was above a six for a few days and your medication wasn’t working. The only time it was worth it to go to the ER was when you reached a nine - anything less and they didn’t take you seriously. Today, you were at a seven.

With every breath, the oxygen that washed into your lungs fueled the fire that burned you from inside out. The medication that should have kicked in hours ago didn’t ease the sensation; you’d taken the pills in the middle of the night when agony woke you from your slumber. The drugs made you feel high out of your mind, but at least they worked. By the time you’d have to get up, the worst of the side effects would be gone and the excruciating suffering would have deadened itself to a more manageable ache. But not today.

Today, you sat at your desk in the bullpen, fighting back tears. With every slight movement you made the pain washed through your body like acid. All you could do was go on, wishing that you had taken the day off. You could have called in sick, but there was something about the pile of files on your desk that forced you to come into work; the longer it took to get a profiles out, the longer it would take to stop the killers and the more lives could be lost. You wouldn't let that happen.

If one was to put it simply, you always put the needs of others before your own. Your greatest blessing and your greatest curse in one.

A notification came up on your phone - a reminder that the team was gathering for a meeting. The walk from your desk to the conference room was less than 100ft, but even the idea of standing made you want to cry. It was painful to think about walking, and you honestly weren’t sure if you’d make it up those five stairs without throwing up. You’d made the journey before, though, even on bad days.

But today you had reached a new level of anguish. Through the past few months, the pain had been slowly intensifying - so slowly that you didn’t recognize it until you did. It was as if you were a child who didn’t realize how many seashells they had collected until they were halfway back down the beach, only noticing the extra strain when they didn’t have enough energy to carry the bucket any longer; the gradual desensitization to the weight caused it to go unnoticed until the body could no longer pretend that it didn’t exist.

Still, you gathered your papers like another beautiful shell to add to your overflowing bucket and stood to go to the conference room. Every fiber of your body screamed. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, but you still stood from your desk. Every time your heel hit the floor, lightning struck through your body, and with every step the voltage increased.

When you found yourself at the bottom of the staircase, your breath was uneven, hands shaking ever so slightly. The metal of the railing was shockingly cold under your palm, not making it any easier to hide how raw your body was to any sensation. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, preparing for the painful ascent.

“(Y/N)?”

You paused and looked up to the man who stood outside his office at the top of the stairs. “Sorry I’m late,” you said. The waver in your voice would have gone unnoticed if you were anywhere else but the bullpen of the BAU. Nothing went unnoticed in the bullpen of the BAU.

Hotch tilted his head slightly- the action itself softened his entire demeanor. But you didn’t want him to be soft right now. You wanted him to tell you to get your ass to the conference room, that everyone was allowed to be late just once, that the team was on a deadline and-

“Are you okay?”

“I-” Your breath faltered before increasing in speed. “I-” The hand on the rail took on a little more weight than before. “I’m-” Your throat closed, unable to speak the lie you so badly wanted to tell, but couldn’t. One more attempt at a deep breath that was severely shallow. “No.”

And just like that, you began to fall apart. Your mind, clouded with pain, didn’t quite register what was happening. It could only pick out the small things; files no longer being in your hands, the sound of an old office chair’s wheels, the smell of a freshly pressed suit, and gentle hands guiding you.

“Sit down.” It was odd to hear your boss’s voice in such a gentle manner, but you were in no state to be shocked and in no position to deny his order. So you sat, resisting the urge to curl up in a ball as soon as you hit the seat. You tried to think about your breaathing once again, having to focus a little too much on a function that the body should do automatically.

“Here,” it was Hotch again, pressing a bottle of water into your hands. “Drink this.”

If you felt better you might make a joke about poison, but you didn’t. You instead, drank the water- room temperature. Somehow you managed not to spill it all over your shirt. Hotch gently took the bottle back and you heard him set it down on the desk.

When you opened your eyes, you were met by the sight of your boss looking at you with concern. You let out a sigh. You hated that look. Even though Hotch was well aware of your condition, it was different for someone to see you experiencing it in real time… shattering your idea that if no one ever saw it, then it didn’t actually exist. You never actually suffered.

“Do you have your medication with you?” Hotch asked.

“I already took the maximum dose,” you whispered, feeling the hopelessness weigh on your chest.

“I’ll take you to the ER,” he started, getting up from where he was sitting across from you. 

“No,” you said, swallowing to contain the pain from escaping your tone. “I’m only at a seven.”

Hotch paused and sat down again. “What do you mean?”

“When you go to the ER they ask you to rate your pain on a scale from one to ten,” you told him. “I only go if I'm at a nine. Right now I'm at a seven.”

You met Hotch’s gaze. Even with its softness, it was still soul piercing. As if he was looking right through your eyes, reading the thoughts written across your mind.

“You’re in pain.”

“As long as I can function, it isn't worth the fight.”

“No one should have to function like this. Someone should fight for you. You deserve for someone to fight for you.” 

A pause stood between you and your boss, his words hanging in the air long after he had finished speaking. Never, in your life, had you been confronted by such deep sympathy at once.

As a child, you had hidden your pain so well that no one would have ever known it was there unless you told them. The pain grew as the years went on, but every cry for help was shut down. Complain and you were a burden, other people had it worse, you weren’t worth the trouble. So you kept it to yourself.

Until now.

With tears in your eyes, you nodded at Hotch. He helped you rise from the chair, careful to support you without causing further pain. You stood carefully, clenching your jaw to keep from screaming.

The manila folders caught your eye. “My files-”

“Reid can handle your files,” Hotch said softly, as he helped you move slowly toward the glass bullpen doors.

“The meeting-”

“Morgan can lead the meeting.”

“There are consults-”

“Prentiss can do your consults.” Hotch opened the door for you.

“Are you sure?” you asked.

The question was deeper than it appeared on the surface; are you sure I can miss work? Are you sure I’m not bothering you? Are you sure I’m worth it?

Hotch took your hand gently. “Yes.”

[talkethtothehandeth]

“Doctor shopping.” Let’s talk about her.

If you’re disabled you’ve probably heard of this before— if you haven’t, or you’re just unfamiliar in general, or an ableist who says this shit, let’s talk about it <3 because the definition has been overtaken and pissed on by more ableist bitches than the ones who demonized addiction within the medical field and caused this term to exist.

So, “doctor shopping” is actually originated from the people who oversee healthcare, which includes any non medical professionals who are involved in the process as well, like big pharma. It’s been defined (in medical related research journals, not just on social media/ the internet), as “a patient consultation with multiple physicians in a short time frame with the explicit intent to deceive them in order to obtain controlled substances.”

However, you hear in the community, from ableist ableds or even ableist disabled people who are like fucking rabid and frothing at the mouth, gnashing their teeth while flipping over the tiniest of pebbles to find “fakers”, (which is usually an AFAB person with multiple conditions that are followed by a slew of symptoms ranging in prevalence and severity, or someone that doesn’t “seem disabled” who becomes a target). So they call it “doctor shopping” when they see chronically ill or disabled people continue to advocate for themselves by going to countless appointments to try to find out what is causing their health to decline. They (ableists) think that by changing providers or continuing to pursue a diagnosis between multiple providers constitutes doctor shopping. It isn’t our desire, and it’s absolutely exhausting and painful when you’re left with no answers.

If I had not gone to the ER multiple times within two months, I would have died. The fluids kept me alive, and the medicine helped. My mom was preparing my dad for my death, and my fiancée was petrified of losing me because my condition continued to declined. But the entire time I was there, I was terrified of asking for medicine because I didn’t want to be labeled a drug seeker, especially because I’ve been open (for my safety) about using marijuana products. I was crying from how bad it was, my blood pressure was in stage two hypertension from the stress on my body.

They said it was, “nothing to worry about” when I saw my nutrition levels were low. My doctor wants a comprehensive metabolic panel because it is something to worry about because my symptoms were severe. And I had to see another doctor, but that facility ignored me for two months while my pcp and I tried working it out with them. They fucked around with my health for two fucking months. So I had to find a different person, and when I went to her she ordered a procedure, which meant a different facility, which means, yet again a different provider. I even had to go to a different hospital at one point for more tests.

Believe me, we don’t want to go to all of these appointments or see all of these doctors because, half of the time, even though there is something wrong with us, they don’t listen. We don’t want to go back and forth and get more medical trauma just for fun or for a silly little made up diagnosis competition bullshit.

People don’t change their doctors because they want to collect diagnoses like Pokémon, people do it because they want to live comfortably, or at the very least suffer less by finding some sort of direction to move towards to better their own health. I was literally preparing to die from medical neglect, because I did my absolute best and still, to this day, don’t have answers. If I hadn’t sought out more providers, I probably wouldn’t have been able to write this post. I’d be dead already.

This desperate desire to cherry pick what someone shares on the internet about their health and literally fucking stalk people on their social media accounts while looking for any sign that someone could potentially be faking their symptoms is, unfortunately, accepted due to disabled people hating themselves, and ableds hating disabled people. It’s that simple, in my mind.

Other peoples’ bodies, disabilities or symptoms are none of your fucking business, and, yes, this includes the things we decide to share. Disabled people share what we want to, and we live in our bodies 24/7. And some of you really need to sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up about how disabled people manage their health care.

I’m not saying there aren’t people who fake conditions, but I am saying that it’s far less than what you choose to believe. You say you want to protect “actually” disabled people by weeding out fakers, when all you’re doing is harming actually disabled people by playing Sick Olympics™️ and accusing them of faking when they’re just trying to seek out life saving treatment— which includes seeing multiple providers to dig deeper for a diagnosis, no matter how rare or outlandish you think it is. You don’t get a medal for harassing disabled people, you’re just a piece of shit.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Would I be an asshole if I reached out to a DND group I left on bad terms to apologize?

I was part of the group from ages ~17-19(+ maybe half a year on either side? idk man I have memory issues). we met at least once a week, usually late at night for me (one of the players was from New Zealand) and as an extremely sleep deprived, socially awkward, ADHD, mildly suicidal teenager with unmanaged chronic pain, I suffered from chronic foot-in-mouth disease. Pretty much every time I'd try to say something out of character, what would come out of my mouth was unnecessarily hostile or just straight up the opposite of what I meant. (note: this is not what I'm asking for judgement on, I was 100% TA here)

Now, that wasn't the only problem I had with the group (the DM tended to have "main" pcs, and was a big fan of pc death and secret one-on-one channels, so more than once something would go down in secret channels that started an entire subplot and resulted in PC major injuries, death, and massive plot progression, and character arcs tended to only be developed or resolved where no one but the individual player could see it) but it was the one that caused me to get kicked from it.

The DM was really into, and very good at, making actually terrifying villains. One night, another player startled me by sneezing directly into their microphone. What I *intended* to say was something along the lines of "that was the scariest sound I've ever heard," but what I *actually* said was "That noise was scarier than anything [DM] has ever come up with!" The joke... did not come across well, and I was asked to leave, and I did so without making the subsequent spiral the DM's problem. It was honestly crushing, at least at first — that was pretty much my main source of social interaction during the pandemic, and despite our differences in preferred play styles, I'd actually had a lot of fun playing those games.

But looking back, I was absolutely in the wrong with... just sort of most of it. It's been three years, coming up on four (? I think?), and I haven't had any contact with anyone from that group since leaving. I do want to apologize for how I acted, both the incident and my behavior in general, but I don't know if I would be the asshole for reaching out after so long just to apologize (I'm not really interested in being friends, and I wouldn't rejoin even if they offered — the difference in play style really is just too much).

What are these acronyms?