#chronic and CERTAINLY NOTHING with my joints
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Literally want to throttle the dr i saw last month oh my fuCKING god
#just saw my normal dr and found out that the other MF flat out put that i have Lupus on my chart after only giving me a basic ANA test#like even i know that isnt right and doesn't mean i def have lupus esp since im celiac and Dont HAVE lupus symptoms at all and was seeing#him to discuss a different set of symptoms that didnt seem like lupus but did seem like another autoimmue issue#im like so mad that im trying not to cry all over again. the dr i saw last month like didnt listen to me the whole appt and wrote down that#i was experiencing a total diff set of symptoms than what i had gone there for?? he said i was having joint pain chronic pain and that my#veins were bulging on my skin. they literally werent! they were darker/more blue when they had never been before and i was experiencing#random sporadic pain only in the locations of the veins on my arms/legs/chest that were becoming more visible and nothing sustained or#chronic and CERTAINLY NOTHING with my joints#just fucking shoot me
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There is a not insignificant portion of disabled people who saw all the jokes about "do yoga to cure your Parkinson's" and assumed that applies to literally any prescribed movement whatsoever and they are furious if you point out that stretching throughout the day or going to a physical therapist might help even a little and I don't fucking get it
Some people lash out even if all you say is "moving an arm you get a vaccine in will prevent that dead-arm thing!" like it is the most virulent, defensive insistence on being utterly doomed and nothing could possibly ever help and I don't fucking get it
#there are obviously exceptions to this but the online disabled community acts like every single one of them is an exception#and all PT is just doctors trying to hurt you and not listening#and I'm sorry but being sedentary is much more harmful to most people#it is highly unlikely that resting forever is going to suddenly give you more energy and movement but PT probably will#and this isn't possible for everyone! and that's okay!#but absolutely nothing has been better for my fucked wrists than using them and building up muscle support around the joints#whenever I slack is when pain pops up and this is not uncommon!!!#idk. I think it's a reaction to having your boundaries pushed constantly but#sometimes. speaking personally. saying 'I can't do that' is actually just saying 'I won't even try and you can't make me'#bc it's the only way to assert autonomy#this does not make it a good impulse and people hang on to it for a really long time and won't even consider it's unhelpful#sigh#disability is difficult but you almost certainly Can affect your circumstances in Some Way and that will make you feel better abt yourself#cassidy.txt#and this is not about 'I went and it was unhelpful' this is 'how DARE you imply stretching can cure chronic pain!!!!'#okay well no one said that
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The First to be Forsaken
been in the works for a while!! This was actually a request that got deleted.
So to the anon who requested a reader who was cursed by Hylia like Eda in the owl house, this is for you!
tw: chronic illness, death
۵♡۵
The ache in your hands never lessened and the maring cracks in your skin never healed. It made for a rather ugly sight, all considered. The creeping vine-like scars showing in rather gorey details the tainted flesh.
No medical salve nor healing spell could rid you of the malice that poisoned your blood. And according to the words of the fairies themselves, it’s latched to your very soul. It festers, feeding off of your energy until you’ll be left as a husk. A puppet with no one to pull its strings.
It’s not pleasant knowing you’re going to die, but it’s less so knowing that no matter how often you pray to the goddess it will not be fixed. The divine never needed to give reason for why they shunned that which gives them power. Still, the chain did what they could, and for that you had many thanks.
Wild always had hearty food to replace the energy stolen from you, Legend let you wear whatever charmed jewellery you wanted, Time would never let you take night shifts, Warriors would carry you on the days you were too fragile to walk, Twilight doubled as a bed and his pelt as a blanket, Four made braces for your brittle joints, Hyrule was always testing different mixes in hopes that one might lessen your pain, Sky would hold your hand and talk to you on the days you could walk to make sure that you had something to distract from the crying of your nerves, even Wind spared some of his grandmother’s soup in hopes that of it didn’t rid of pain, it might ease your distress. Your Heroes were funny like that, sacrificing whatever they had for anyone that needed it, no matter how precious their time or belongings are. Certainly not a coincidence they act this way. They’ve seen what’s become of you under the neglect of the gods. And you’ve seen the familiar ache in their eyes, the recognition of themselves within you.
The newest hero, First —well perhaps then he’s the oldest— was in many ways similar. He too would offer you stories and ballads from his time, forgotten by the time the next era rolled in. His words had a majesty that had the whole camp turn an ear to follow whatever tale he recalled. And by the time it came for you to lay your head and rest, your woes would be far off from the front of your mind.
He’d sweep you off your feet both in the figurative matter and the literal. With only the gentlest graze of your skin and only the sweetest words that could be uttered did he regard you. He did not hold you to a sense of pity, as was common among many who knew of you, but a genuine care. A care for you beyond measure that he’d shown on many occasions that he would stop at nothing to ensure that if you could not be comfortable, you could be content.
And currently you were, despite it being a bad day.
The champion watched over the cooking pot carefully and the traveller flicked through one of his journals, looking for a combination of herbs that might be of help to you. The two passed questions back and forth in an effort to find an overlap of medicinals they haven’t already tried.
You had Twi’s pelt, Sky’s sailcloth and First’s scarf to try and dull your cold flashes. You leaned back against the First hero as his arms warped around you and his face buried into your shoulder. You shiver as the next cold wave hits, wincing. The moment sits in silence before his arms around your abdomen gently pull you closer.
“I am sorry for what she did to you, My beloved.” His voice was deep and poetic as usual, the unwavering strength he displayed to the world melted to softness at your touch. Through the staticky emptiness that settled in your brain, the question stood, alone and without any real context nor answer.
“What do you mean?” Your brows furrow and you look over at where he rests his head on your shoulder. He draws a heavy breath, mumbling something into your layers of clothing.
“Hylia- all of this because of her vanity. I am sorry you fell victim.” There is a pain in his voice, a guilt he’s held for long. Shackles upon his wrists that he’s not willing to let himself be freed from. You suppose it is him where their united care for the world came from, no matter how unrequited. He’d bleed himself dry for the world if it meant that it’d be better.
“I don’t mind being here with you all” You hear the distant rowdy laughter of Wind and Twi, and you find it in yourself to bask in this one moment, “It’s certainly worth it. To me, at least.” He grumbles happily, kissing the nearest place of unscathed skin he can find, right below your jaw.
“I am glad, Dearest. But that-“ His voice wavers as another chill wracks your body. You can only find a wince as you try to block away the ever advancing chill.
“That is not what I meant. I- It’s because of her that you cannot find rest. It is she who whittled down your bones and set alight your nerves” You find nothing to say as you stare at him, urging for more. “She thought it was wrong for me to love you, to long for your care and yearn to hold your heart. So, she tainted y-“ You wish to hear his words. A muse longing to read the poets works, and yet-
The words grow fuzzy as the gloom within you swells, gnawing painfully at your bones. It seems that you had forgotten exactly how brittle you were. It was always hubris that killed heroes, wasn’t it? But that didn’t make sense. You were no hero. How could it be hubris if you never meant to taunt the gods. How could that be- you weren’t dying, are you?
They said you’d be ok.
You’ll be ok right?
Everything will be ok?
The pressure in your head doesn’t stop growing and your stomach hurls.
The sun is so bright.
It hurts.
She’s taking you again, isn’t she?
#linked universe#legend of zelda#linkeduniverse#link x reader#linked universe x reader#link x you#lu first x reader#lu first#fir’s library
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a series of fics in which Obi Wan Kenobi having a disability somehow saves the galaxy
behold, my magnum opus
#1. Iviin’hiibi te Tuur- 16k, 11 chapters, complete (+ongoing bonus works)
Obi Wan has never resented the seizures he's experienced, not exactly, but he wasn't particularly fond of them either.
(And then they save the galaxy.)
#2. Uja Nejah - 34k, 28 chapters, complete
Obi Wan was diagnosed with diabetes a few months after his return from Melida/Daan. The Healers assured him it would only have minor impacts on his life and wouldn't change much for him.
It does, but it somehow works out all the better in the end because of it.
#3. Gev’or’dayc O’r - 62k, 30 chapters, complete
After an attempt on Obi Wan’s life leaves him in a precarious state, and the clones concerned about the person trying to finish the job, they make a significant decision that involves the entirety of the 212th faking their deaths, disappearing into wild space, and working tirelessly to help their General get better. While Anakin and Ahsoka are investigating the attempted assassination, Obi Wan has to come to terms with the possibility he might not get better from this, and what his life will look like if that’s the case.
#4. Mirsh’prudiise - 45k, 19 chapters, complete
Obi Wan is diagnosed with psychosis after Melida/Daan.
When he returned, he was cracked, portions of him split from other pieces, reflected in mirrors, distant. There were other things in him, when he got back. Things that were not him, that he now had to carry around, weighing on him heavily.
#5. Nor’taakur be Beskar - 47k, 23 chapters, complete
Months before the clones are discovered, before the outbreak of war, before Geonosis and everything that occurs therein, Obi Wan is seriously injured in a speeder crash. He still finds his way to the front lines and the galaxy is better for it.
#6. Urakto Videkir - 2.5k, 1 chapter, complete (future work forthcoming)
Obi Wan realizes he's quite forgotten to tell the troopers he doesn't eat by mouth. Surely this will not come back to haunt him later (said no one ever).
#7. The only thing strong enough to kick my ass is me - 5k, 1 chapter, complete (likely to be future works)
Obi Wan assumed the joint paint was part of getting older, of using his saber for endless hours while fighting a war in exhausting conditions. He certainly didn't think there was anything else going on.
#8. Cinar’tal Or’baar - 9k, 2 chapters, complete
An unexpected complication throws a wrench into the chronic illness Obi Wan has been coping with for years. Further complications arise, naturally, because nothing in his life can be easy.
#9. Irud bal Motuun - 5.5k, 3/26 chapters, WIP
When Anakin abandoned Obi Wan on Geonosis, leaving him to to fight Dooku on his own, both he and the galaxy are forever changed.
Based on the excellent art of @charrhylis
(updated December 12, 2023)
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The hidden life of a disabled/chronically ill person.
(Basically a rant about everything wrong in my life and in this society)
At this point I don't even know what's wrong.
Am I feeling exhausted because of idiopathic hypersomnia or am I at the beginning of a spondylitis flare up.
Do I even have ankylosing spondylitis? The symptoms list is a bit sketchy. I mean, there's something there in my body acting up, but... Anyway, I'm too weary to go through all that, the tests and so. I'll just die with my joint aching, I guess.
And am I crying because of the fatigue or is it the start of another depressive phase? Who knows? Not me. Maybe I'm just fed up of being this way.
What way it is, I don't even know anymore. I'm pretty sure there's a lot more laying there inside me to be diagnosed.
The point is, I've been in and out of so many doctors' offices and two decades later I feel like nothing has changed.
I see people over there, talking about their six months wait for a diagnosis, starting meds right away that changed their life. I'm so jealous. Are these people even real?
I lost count of how many specialists I've seen since middle school. I've lost count of how many times I've given up ever finding a diagnosis or a helpful hand. I certainly haven't kept a list of the doctors I came to hate for their incompetence and their cold dismissal.
I hate the healthcare system so much. There's specialists and centers and places I can't even access because I need other doctors' letters to even take an appointment. But the doctors I have are all incompetent morons that don't even listen to me. Where are the good doctors? Where do I find them?
*
And in the meantime, I survive. There's no other word for the way I live with so little money. How would I survive without the help of a family I'd rather be estranged with? The little money I get from the state doesn't cover for the bare minimum of living. I could get more if I applied for it but... I'd need to be fully diagnosed. The diagnosises I have now aren't enough apparently. I hate that there's people in offices that put a percentage on my level of disability and can decide of my future. Because I really don't know what I'd do if they'd reject my application. I'd be force to find a job that might just kill me, or maybe my bf and I would be forced to live with his father, living on what my family could give us for food. And what would we do the day they'll all be dead? Who'll help us then? Where would we live? How would we find food and clothes?
The state never cares about people like us living with dignity. They don't even care about us being alive. They'd rather see us dead, because we're wastes of money to them. So they don't want to help us. They do not care about making things easier and more accessible. They want us gone.
Okay, I didn't mean to go on a rant, but, well, that's the life of disabled and chronically ill people. We are more than our disabilities and illnesses, yes, but our lives can't be separated from them either. It's not just about 'spoons' or 'batteries', we need to think about so much more than that. And the irony in there is that it costs a lot of spoons. Abled people can have hard lives, sure, but they have more energy to spend and means to find solutions. They survive more easily. For us, it can mean death far more quickly, and no one cares.
If we can't take care of ourselves by working, earning money, making a place for ourselves in this broken society, we are devalued and outcast.
"Earning money". Do we have to earn our right to live too? Apparently so. At least, they won't try to make it easier for us.
Sure, there's stuffs that exist for helping disabled and chronically ill people. But it's enough sugar-coated bullshit to appease the people, to show enough kindness not to look heartless. I don't believe for one second they care for us, and you should not too.
They expect us being voiceless, because we are often silenced by our own lack of spoon. We live a life where we need more energy but have less than most people. It is thus unfair that we are the one that have to be our own advocates.
Sure, we have allies. But if there's one thing I have learned is that if you don't leave it, you don't know what people that live it really need. The best allies are forums. They're empty spaces that make the minorities' voices resonate, that emplify them. Allies' voices are echoes. But echoes can be dangerous, the original message distorted beyond recognition. So we need to be the ones to be heard. No small feat.
I know that I can't do that. I can only send tumblr posts into the void. Is that enough? It'll have to be, because I can barely remember to eat, I can't fight this battle on top of everything.
Kudos of the activists that manage to do it all. I hope you don't get burnt out.
#actually disabled#actually mentally ill#idiopathic hypersomnia#sleepy bitch disease#bipolar disorder#c ptsd#autism#actually autism#ankylosing spondylitis#rheumatism#disability problems#physical disability#disability benefits#disability#disabled#actually chronically ill#chronic illness#chronic fatigue#chronic pain#chronically ill#spoonie#spoon theory#depression#actually ptsd
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I’ve been meaning to read your disability au for awhile now and was finally able to start it today! I love it so much!!!!
One thing I’m specifically super excited to see is that Legend has RRMS since my aunt has MS and this is the first time I’ve seen a character written with it! It’s so exciting to see it in a fic!
Thank you so much for writing this au!
Aaaah thank you so much!! Yeah, I honestly don't think I've ever seen a character in fiction with MS specifically, and I don't know if I've seen one with any sort of chronic pain... I'm sure I must have run into something, but huh. It makes it a bit more difficult to write, not having any examples, but I'm doing my best. :)
also I wrote a thing, inspired by this and what today was like:
Naptime
gen, Legend & Sky, 551 words, no warnings. AO3 link here!
Legend would be annoyed, except being annoyed sounds like too much work at the moment.
---
Legend would be annoyed, except being annoyed sounds like too much work at the moment. He can't think of a single thing he's done recently that would make him this tired. They've been taking a rather scenic route through Wild's beautiful world (every route in Wild's world is the scene route, in every sense of the term), and the hills have been nothing short of gentle. His appetite has been a bit lackluster in the last few days, admittedly, but it hasn't been that bad. Certainly nothing to act like this.
Well. His body keeps proving it hates him. The feeling is quite mutual.
Today, Legend mostly just feels stiff. There's pain, of course, there always is, but nothing out of the ordinary. The temperature is mild, not cold enough to make him shiver and not hot enough to make his joints creak. He wouldn't be leaning on his cane much, except for the fact that his eyes want to close after every other step.
When Time stops them for lunch, Legend eyes the distance between himself and the tree that Sky is claiming as the nap spot. It's kind of long, but the grass there looks comfortable, so Legend heads over there. He thinks someone asks him something, but he's a bit too focused on not falling asleep yet to really hear, much less answer.
Sky leans up against the trunk of the tree, and gives Legend a short wave. Legend lifts his free hand to offer back the world's limpest wave. He uses his cane to lower himself to the ground, careful not to overbalance, then falls onto his back and stretches his legs out.
He was right. The grass here in the tree's dappled shade is springy and soft, a far cry from the spiky shrubs in Legend's own world.
"Tired?" Sky asks, his voice perhaps just a touch too loud for the situation.
Legend is, in fact, tired, so he just nods.
"You could ride in the cart, you know."
The cart is new. Legend is grateful for it. But he doesn't need it. Besides… Wind's been riding all day, and Hyrule has been joining him on occasion.
He lifts his hands to sign, not even bothering to speak. If his signs right now were words, he'd be slurring them. 'It's a bit full right now.'
"Even still, there's room for you, I bet, if you need it." Sky sounds so kind.
'What I need is a nap. I'm fine. Thanks for asking.' Legend lets his arms fall to the sides, and feels Sky pat his hand once or twice before pulling back.
A breeze ruffles the broad leaves far above Legend's head, broken by a cloudy gray sky and muffled sunshine. Laughter drifts in over the buzzing of bees in the nearby patch of wildflowers, and Legend can vaguely smell smoke as Wild gets a fire going. Hm. He doesn't usually cook for lunch, it's more likely to be cold leftovers or just raw fruits and vegetables. Perhaps they intend to camp here for the night. That would be nice, but Legend's a bit worried about getting to the town on time.
…well, he's a touch too tired to be that worried about it.
He's just going to nap here. It's nice to not battle gravity.
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Was given an edible
Now I'm not much of a weed person cause when it gets me high it's just a body high, really feel my pulse in my head, and I don't like it. Find though that there right doses for tea or an edible can do some pain killing without getting me high
Anyway, went head and ate this, 25mg cbd, and... just has me realize how much pain I'm in
I don't consider myself to have chronic pain well... for a few reasons
One, pain is so subjective so I don't know how bad my pain is. Two I've got no clue what causes my general pain so I don't know what's up with that, and my back is all muscle stuff, so if I just did there right exercises I could fix it, but I can't get myself to do that, which makes it my fault it's not better so I don't get to complain
...man though, like on top of the back, my joints are just always hurting for no reason and then I take something that dulls the pain and... agonist like it hurts worse cause in not feeling it as much I'm not ignoring it like normal
Just... I don't know. Don't know how much pain I have compared to someone with chronic pain but... it there
I don't know... I'm not doing well, just in general, but I suppose it is what it is. I mean what's to be done about any of it? And if there's nothing to be done what's there point in dwelling on it?
If you have pain that creates any barrier or distress while doing day to day activities and it is more likely to be present than not, you have chronic pain. A lot of us struggle with not really being sure if what we're feeling counts because you learn to push through a lot of it.
It can certainly be difficult to get something done about it, but more often than not there are actually solutions! Even just anxoety medications like toporamate or gabapentin have pain management aspects that can be really effective for chronic (and especially neuropathic) pain. I definitely recommend exploring the options if you feel up to it.
I like using this pain scale, however it's important to know that best practice in pain management should include a contextual discussion of the pain, not just a pain scale number. So you should talk about things that make the pain worse or better, specific pain sensations/locations, duration, accompanying muscle or range of motion weakness, etc.
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Sorry to my moots for the uncharacteristically aggressive spam
I just found out about a whole new form of discourse on this site and went on an absolute rampage. I do consider myself neurodivergent (but my neurodivergence specifically is low support needs) and I have EDS. And tbh some of my disabilities like EDS and gastroparesis and POTS (all “TikTok teen girl” sicknesses that are typically perceived as being very mild) are extremely disabling. Like can’t move, can’t eat, bend bound, cathed and tube fed w/ supplemental oxygen and a heart monitor that screams if I sit up a little bit too vertically level disabling.
I’m unequivocally physically disabled, and some parts of my disabilities are invisible
But I would never pick a fight with someone who also has a severe disability for talking about accessibility issues that aren’t about me.
I personally don’t have intellectual disabilities, so I don’t go into their spaces like “yeah, but why aren’t you talking about people with chronic pain??” because I literally know the answer. It’s because they’re simply talking about something that isn’t about me, as they are entitled to do
In the exact same vain, I wouldn’t go up to someone with (completely hypothetically) an SCI and be like “how dare you talk about your needs without also talking about EDS 😡😡”
I have EDS. I might comment something like “yes, wheelchair accessible sidewalks would be very helpful to people with EDS as well.” But I’m not gonna attack them for talking about something they need just because I don’t also need it.
And I’m certainly not going to feel personally attacked because they seem “sicker” than me. Pain Olympics is dumb, but let’s be so so so fr, some people simply are sicker than others. And while that doesn’t invalidate less sick people and they absolutely deserve support as well and I’m actively an activist for people in that kind of middle area of “too sick to be involved in society” but “not sick enough to qualify for hospice care” that is no reason to attack people who DO need the absolute highest level of support structures for needing them.
I confess that I too am sick and tired of the “quirky” level 1 neurodivergent teens on TikTok dominating the entire conversation on disability. I’m on the quirky-not-seriously-disabled end of the neurodivergence spectrum, and trust me, it is nothing even comparable to severe physical, genuinely life threatening disability. It doesn’t mean adhd isn’t real, but it does mean you need to shut up and stop speaking over people in conversations about truly truly crippling disability. That’s not you. You deserve to talk about your fidget toys, but take it elsewhere. I’m tired of conversations that are on genuinely life or death issues being overtaken by people with mild anxiety/depression. Stop acting like executive dysfunction is equal to your body literally shutting down. Losing consciousness if you move wrong. Your heart actually literally tapping out. Neurodivergence isn’t even fundamentally the same thing as physical disability. Like it’s a whole separate issue. It’s not more or less important, it’s just a totally unrelated phenomenon
Or even if you have mild EDS or arthritis and your joints kinda hurt. That’s a real issue and you deserve support, but it doesn’t justify taking over every single discussion
Just be comfortable being okay with some things being not about you. The existence of people with visible disabilities isn’t a threat to those with invisible disabilities
#yes we should all be supportive of each other#but if you attack someone for trying to advocate for something they personally need#they’re justified in clapping back#not because you’re less sick than them#just because you’re an asshole#and you can be an asshole regardless of how disabled you are or aren’t
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[Ramble] On the Implications of Descriptions in Literature
Some thoughts on the ways in which scenes and events are depicted, from an amateur writer.
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Fiery tendrils of agony run up his arm, burning him from the fingertip to the innermost parts of his body. He wants to cry, he wants to scream, but this isn’t the type of sudden pain that warrants such a dramatic reaction. His agony has been a part of him for as long as he can remember, a lifelong companion that wishes upon him only the worst. It hurts like hellfire, yet at the same time, the longevity of the pain has numbed it, as though the fire has burned him into ice.
No matter how purple my prose is written, the fact is that this is a passage describing chronic joint and muscle pain. That’s all.
Life is astonishingly disappointing. We write and we draw and we animate, but at the end of the day, the imagery that we create often becomes much more vivid than the actual event itself.
Of course, perhaps it’s simply a matter of perception. Everything becomes less interesting the second time you do it, and most things lose their appeal completely when you do them everyday. Perhaps the regularity with which we experience everyday life has made us lose interest in it, which is why when we see it presented in a different form, such as through literature, it seems like a completely new and interesting event.
Still, I hold firm on the stance that this kind of vivid imagery only serves to romanticize everyday events in a way that makes them unrealistic. However, I am certainly not opposed to this kind of romanticization, if my own writing pieces show anything.
Vivid imagery, when done well, can make any situation seem incredibly poetic, even if the experience itself is extremely mundane. If you saw a person waiting at the train station, it would seem fairly normal. You wouldn’t see it as anything poetic, because there’s nothing particularly special about a person waiting at a train station. However, through art and literature, one can turn this scene into a poetic illustration.
This scene seems extremely mundane, and outside of literature, it probably would be. However, one could turn the person, or the train station, into symbols for countless ideals, or use overly dramatic descriptions to turn the scene into something else.
Thus, it can be concluded that vivid imagery in literature only serves to over romanticize an event, not accurately describe it.
This kind of overly romantic depiction can be seen in all forms of storytelling, from written works to illustrated works and even films. One could argue that this is problematic, as it results in hyperrealism - when the story based on the real event becomes even more real than the event itself, and thus people begin to base their expectations for life on the story, rather than reality itself. However, I don’t believe that the existence of hyperrealism is a problem.
Things lose their appeal when they are done repeatedly. This applies to many, many things. Living life, too, begins to become a hassle when you are forced to do it every single day.
But look at that. Instead of saying “life gets boring,” the above phrasing makes even boredom and depression seem so much more poetic. Perhaps that becomes romanticization of mental illness, but is romanticization such a bad thing? If whether or not we enjoy life is based solely on perception, then isn’t this kind of romanticization the ultimate method for achieving a positive view on life?
Don’t get me wrong; I have long since fallen in love with this thing we call escapism. If given the option, I wouldn’t ever leave my room. I’d lock myself in my own world, surrounded by nothing but myself and the dim glow of my computer screen, experiencing reality through the vast expanse of the digital world and my own thoughts. But romanticization in literature isn’t such a bad thing, is it? It allows us to at least think of our everyday activities as poetic, so that the monotony of the everyday doesn’t drive us all insane.
Literature teachers are constantly preaching the need to dig through the depths of the work, as though the author’s mind is an infinite space of creativity and higher level thinking. As an amateur writer myself, I’ve always disagreed with this method of teaching. At the end of the day, writers (and creators of all types) are humans, just like the rest of us. They eat and sleep and breathe, just like you and me. Teachers tend to place these people on pedestals, creating this great divide between the creators and consumers of the pieces. At the end of the day, however, I think that all creators, as with the rest of us, are just trying to keep themselves sane in this world of chaos.
I recently watched an anime called Blue Period, which walks us through the journey of a high schooler finding meaning to life through art. In one scene, colours explode out of the canvas as the protagonist paints, almost like a scene from an action anime rather than slice of life. These kinds of depictions are obviously unrealistic, but I suppose that this is a valid method to visualize emotions and sensations that can’t be depicted simply using pixels on a computer screen.
The protagonist himself is no one special, but the way in which he describes his insecurities and negative traits is incredibly poetic, which makes these “bad” things seem artistic rather than “bad.” It’s things like these that demonstrate the appeal of the arts - storytelling makes everyday events and mundane characters seem almost fantastical, which makes the burden of everyday life just a little more bearable.
My writing style throughout this piece, and throughout many of my other pieces, may seem overly sophisticated or condescending, but that, too, is just a matter of trying to make my existentialism seem a little more poetic lest I go insane. Truthfully, about halfway through this piece, I forgot what I was trying to write. I’d thought of an idea that seemed very coherent after watching Blue Period, but it’s since slipped my mind. Hence, the second half of this ramble is all just nonsense that I made up on the spot. I think that it shows, in some cases, where I went on a tangent. Alas, I ought to write ideas down before I start getting all prose-y.
Still, I think that the sudden change in style in the last two paragraphs reflects my views on literature, and even the rest of the world. Things may seem beautiful and artistic on paper, but at the end of the day, real life tends to be incredibly mundane and disappointing.
I was going to make a poetic and artistic ending, but I’ve lost that train of thought, too.
(Oh, also, I did a little sketch that was meant to be the thumbnail for this post, but Pubray didn’t let me format it the way I wanted, so here it is)
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Drabbles - Ch. 1
Ch. 1 - Dr Harding Hooten
[AO3] [c2]
Rating: M
WC: 806
Tags: Medical marijuana, Drug Use, Physical Disability, Caretaking
Fandom: Monday Mornings
Ship: Harding Hooten/Reader
Disc: M (Drug use)
Harding may not partake in the use of marijuana, but he did support the medical applications; applications that his partner found to work best over other options for their chronic pain. (unspecified gender reader)
“Fuck.” A soft sigh fell from your lips, head falling back to the pillow. You needed to get up, out of bed, you knew that. But the intense pain that flared into your legs, up to your hips, and you knew better than to try and get up just yet. A slight flex of fingers, and you knew most of your joints were shot for the day. Even your cane was on the other side of the room, and it’d be hell to grab it. A careful roll to the side of the bed, and you saw that Harding was already gone, out of bed well before you had managed today. Your eyes closed, taking just a few more moments in bed to steal your body for the next moments.
Right before you started to get up, you felt the bed press down near your feet, a hand moving to rest on your calf, a gentle pressure to remind you that he was there. Your head popped up to look at the man, and a tired smile appeared on your lips.
“I thought that you’d left for the day,” you greeted, taking the moments to nuzzle down into the comforter. Your hand reached out to him, and he took your hand in his, his thumb rubbing over your finger.
“Not yet, I’ve still got an hour.”
“Anything to do until then?” You could hear the smile in his voice.
“Nothing but find my keys.”
“They’re on the vanity,” you replied, pulling him back into the disheveled bed. He took the moment to shift you both, holding you closer to his chest for a moment. You curled into him for just a moment, taking care not to wrinkle his shirt too terribly much. “Shouldn’t have left the cane here yesterday,” you finally grumbled into his chest.
“I told you to bring it,” he gently reminded you.
“I know…” A sigh from your lips, and you shook your head a little. “Next time I will.”
“You almost certainly won’t.” Your smile was rueful, hearing that.
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“Will you be alright for the day, alone?” You peeked up at him, narrowing your eyes. “None of that, darling. You did a lot yesterday. Let me take care of you sometimes.”
“Did you get my meds last night?”
“I put it on the nightstand. Flower and capsules, like you wanted.” You couldn’t help pressing closer into his arms, wanting to steal all the distractions you could right now. “How bad is your pain this morning?” It was only days he could tell you were in pain that he’d even ask, and you bit your lip.
“Bad.”
“Would you like me to set your medications up for the day?”
Lips pressed together, warring between wanting to stay put and actually listening to Harding warred for a moment.
“I should let you; help this pain.” It was always a weird sight to see the doctor preparing your pipes, making sure that you were well and truly prepared for the day without him. He helped sit you up, handing a small piece to you, with a lighter. “You always make me feel like I'm still in a doctor’s office, learning how to use this.”
“You could always wait until I leave.”
“Not today.” a couple puffs, and you leant back down to let the smoke wash over your mind, numbing that insistent pain.
“Can… can you bring my cane over before you leave?”
“Of course, darling.” Instead, he settled in next to you, having given you the space you’d actually needed to smoke without getting any on him. His arms wrapped around you again, pulling you back to his body so you could fall asleep again. This was the easiest way for him to get you to actually rest.
“Thank you.” You allowed silence to stretch between you both, almost able to slip back into a light dose. When you woke next, it was to Harding slipping from under you, carefully laying you back on the bed. You heard shuffling, your medication set on the nightstand just as you’d asked, and you rolled over to his side of the bed, laying down where he normally was.
“When will you be home tonight?”
“Seven, unless I’m called for an emergency.”
“Text me if you can, alright?”
“Alright. Go to bed, I will try my utmost to be home tonight.” He stopped right before he was able to leave the room, and went back to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Your lips curved up, hand reaching up to cup his cheek for just a moment.
“Have a good day at work, doctor.” You guided his lips to yours for just a moment, allowing the seconds of selfishness to pull you closer.
Harding broke the kiss, smiling at you.
“And you, my darling.”
Tags: @arandomnerdsblog578, @unitedfandomsoftheworld, @justdomebody, @randomfandomtrash28
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I've seen a lot of people come into your ask box with life stuff and questions and figured I'd do the same because this is really bothering me and I wanted someone to talk to and you are really REALLY nice to people so. Yeah.
I keep getting phantom pain and I have no ide why. Stuff hurts even though there's nothing physically wrong with it (to my knowledge) and I can't get rid of the feeling I just have to wait for it to fade. And it's often a lot of pain too :[
Does this happen to anyone else, have you heard of this?
Hi!
I am SO sorry this took me a second to get back to. I am usually much better at responding to asks, but last week was a nightmare.
I can't say that I have this experience frequently. I certainly have parts of my body that seem to hurt for literally no reason sometimes (though I suspect the reason is I'm in my 30s and my back just hurts now).
I do thing that there are lots of chronic pain conditions that cause this sort of thing. That just makes your joints ache, or your muscles hurt without a reason being directly related to that actual body part.
I have zero medical training and know nothing. But I do know a lot of people with chronic pain issues that have things that sound sort of similar. Your best bet to at least figure out WHY it's happening is to talk to a professional about it.
But I would bet money that you are not the only follower I have that has this sort of issue. And there might be someone reading this who might be able to provide you with better answers/options/thoughts than I can.
I hope that it isn't too debilitating when it happens. And that you have good luck finding out why it's happening and hopefully figuring out how to make it stop (or at least manage it).
♥♥♥♥
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hello! this might be a bit of an overreach, and you can feel free to ignore this ask, but as someone with chronic illness/pain, how do you, for lack of a better word, function? i've never been in the position before where i've had to take things like advil or tylenol daily to not be in pain all the time and i'm absolutely going to speak to my physician about what to do but i thought that maybe as part of the community you could tell me what is common? i don't think it's good to do it long term?
hi - no worries! this turned out longer than i meant it to, so i’m putting the majority of it under a read more (or at least attempting to, i’m on mobile so let’s see if this works LOL)
i’ve had to adjust my definition of “functioning”. everybody’s different and my idea of functioning may not be your’s or the next person’s. so for me, functioning is just doing what i can on a day-to-day basis. planning for what needs to be done and allocating when to do it helps me.
:readmore:
so for a couple of examples - if i need to go to the store, i plan it for the next “high” energy day i have or i plan for it to be the only major thing i do in a day. if i have to lead a meeting, i schedule it in the mid-morning, since that’s when i have both the energy and the clear head most days. you’ll slowly be able to figure out what takes more energy and what’s easier to do as you go. (if you haven’t heard of spoon theory, i’d suggest looking it up! it’s tangential to this conversation)
but there are days where i can get a lot done and there are days like the day i had yesterday, which was a Real Fucking Bad Day™️. i was exhausted to the point of not being able to think straight, every part of my body ached, and the majority of my joints were giving me shooting pains that would happen both when i moved and randomly. my joints normally pop every so often, but it was to the point where one of my coworkers pointed out that my joints snapped and popped every. time. i. moved. i did what absolutely had to be completed and that was it - nothing more.
today’s an easier day and closer to what my normal is - my “normal” tiredness is back and it’s only my problem areas giving me issues, though i’m still struggling hard with energy levels because of how much energy i had to put into just existing yesterday. i’ve been able to complete more than just the bare minimum, but it’s not close to what i can do on my normal days.
on my normal days, where it’s just the tiredness and the pain i typically deal with, i still do the same things with planning and allocating where i put my energy because i keep learning the hard way that if i ignore my body and push myself too hard, everything will get real bad, real fast.
so maybe your functioning works like mine and it fluctuates or maybe you’re in a different situation, but i’d encourage you to define what functioning means to you in the way that best helps you in your situation and in living your day-to-day life (and your mental health, because societal standards certainly don’t help with the emotions surrounding chronic issues). i guess my ultimate advice is: don’t hold yourself to impossible standards and be gentle with yourself.
as for the tylenol/advil part, i’d first like to make a disclaimer: one, i’m not a medical professional. two, like a medical professional, i too can make mistakes XD i also can’t speak for the community at large, but i can at least say what i know for people i know
that being said, it depends on how much you’re taking and how often. most sources say that, as long as you’re taking less than the maximum dosage per every 24 hours, you should be fine. there are health risks associated with long term use, but a good majority of the people who i know who aren’t on a specific pain treatment plan take an otc painkiller on a daily basis (myself included at this point) - just watch how much you’re taking
granted, i don’t know your medical history, so i would definitely recommend following your plan of asking your physician - they’ll be able to give you specifics surrounding your history, situation, and what to do or not do!
i feel like rambled, so hopefully this helps in some capacity! i also feel like i’m missing something i wanted to say, so i’ll come back and add an edit at the end of this if i remember 😅 but my askbox is always open!
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i think i may have Regrets
#legit may not be able to move tomorrow lol#i am just slowly feeling my entire body seizing up#joints and muscles both lol#i’m way too out of shape and chronically ill to have worked outside in the sun for 2.5 hours#that was definitely a mistake#that i almost certainly will learn nothing from and will do it again in the future#kit being stupid
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This is so HIGHLY specific that I don't know if anyone cares but-
Artist!Steve is on the brain and as an artist myself (realistic traditional, typically with graphite or colored pencils but I also sculpt clay/throw on the wheel and I've taken to dabbling in watercolor among other mediums) I have a favorite art supply but, I was wondering if Steve might have a favorite.
Just passively, as I was working on my current piece. And as I moved from one pencil to the next and picked up a new tool to assist. Instantly I knew it was the art supply that reminded me of Steve. It would be something he'd love and use all the time as an artist that does a lot of sketching in graphite-
and he (in a lot of fanfic at least lmao) enjoys charcoal, colored pencils, and pens.
Basically anything he could easily get his hands on that would make marks on paper. Likely because he grew up in a poor economy with a single, imagrant mother, and then watched nearly everything be rationed for the war effort.
While he wouldn't use the tool for watercolor/any type of painting you HC him doing, Steve strikes me as someone who returns to the instinctive, muscle memory of traditional drawing with any pencil/pen he can find.
The tool?
One of these fuckers-
If you've never seen one of these before, it's a pencil extender. They're used to make pencil stubs last longer so you don't have to buy new pencils when yours get too short to comfortably hold but aren't yet worthy of throwing away. (Although you totally can put charcoal, pastel, of contè sticks into them too. Not just pencil stubs. With those drawing implements, extenders are helpful because it keeps your fingers cleaner if you don't like the mess they can make.)
I feel like Steve would adore his pencil extenders during the pre-war 1930s but also in the 21st century.
Pre-war Steve loved these little life (and hand) savers because it meant he really could stretch his more expensive sketching pencils for as long as possible before he would either have to scrounge together enough money to buy another set or just use the old pencils they had around the apartment. Or whatever he could snag from the desks of doctor's offices or banks or grocery stores. And, sure, those pencils do the job but whenever he doesn't have a set of sketching pencils he misses the specifics of the harder and softer graphite. There's nothing like the scratch of an H grade pencil against paper and nothing like the smooth, dark swipe of a 6B pencil.
So, yeah, pencil extenders quickly become a godsend for Steve and that's not even mentioning his chronic health conditions likely impacting his physical comfort when holding pencils. His heart troubles are mentioned to give him poor circulation, and if you've ever tried to write with a pencil at school first thing in the morning after coming in from outside during the winter, you know it's hard to hold a pencil like that from experience. Pencil extenders wouldn't entirely fix the problem but it would help with something more to grip.
It's not listed in the movies on this handy sheet-
But Steve's also said to have had bone/joint deformities in some regard. Which might've extended to his fingers and even possibly his wrists, right? Holding longer pencils would certainly be easier than holding stubs for that reason too!
In current, modern day Steve would also learn to love pencil extenders beyond the novelty of waltzing through an art materials store only to find them right there on the shelf, thinking to himself, huh, of all the things they still sell. He has trouble finding the same shades of colored pencils he used to have (particularly because he used to be color blind but also because, y’know, the production of them has gotten so much better than when he was using them after they only started to be made for art purposes in the early 20th century) yet, the same basic pencil extender still exists. By the same brand. Huh.
Beyond that strange comfort, Steve uses them a lot in the beginning of his reintroduction to art because he has to reteach himself fully how to use sketching pencils with pressure and such, so he breaks them all the damn time, and it feels like a waste to not use the broken halves after sharpening them. Bigger movements he's adjusted to using less strength but... he didn't get to draw a lot during the war. He forgot how breakable pencils are and how little to move his wrist- his observation skills are sharp as ever but he physically has to retrain himself to translate his understanding of the minute details of the world around him to paper (inspired by this). And while pencil extenders are not substantially more difficult for Steve to break than his sketching pencils... he goes through a handful of them before Agent Hill notices them on his desk when paying him a visit. Steve won't ask anyone for anything but Hill will, she shops around, drops him off some sturdier ones at first. When he shyly admits to breaking those gifts (and sounding so damn torn up about it), Hill instead contacts Tony Stark to wip one up real quick. He gives her three different ones, all out of increasingly harder material. Steve uses them all the time until his muscles relearn.
And, of course, fully capable physically in drawing once more, Steve switches back to the brand he's been using his whole conscious life. It's hard to shake the mindset of not trashing something until you really, truly cannot use it anymore that he learned through The Depression.
Anyway, Artist!Steve loves pencil extenders. That's all. Thank you for coming to my TED talk
#steve rogers#captain america#fandomfluffandfuck#fic#artist steve rogers#artist steve#pre war steve#modern steve#validate my opinion with the reblog button lol
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hey man how old r u bc like for some reason i've been under the impression that u were a minor (bc i am and like idk ??) even tho that's probably not true bc btrs like 10 years old so u don't have to answer with an actual age just if ur an adult or something omg. i gave way too much exposition just to ask how old u r im sorry </3
oh dadgummit, i should prob throw it up there in my bio or smth, i rlly don't wanna be That One Shady Fandom Creep ykyk (;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`) and idk abt that either maybe i just clown around a lot and act extremely juvenile a little lot sometimes always and am gnome-sized irl, but i certainly never wanna be misleading or anything insidious. so for the sake of full transparency, i just turned 22 this month *instantly shrivels into the cryptkeeper* and i was around 9 when big time rush first aired (so pretty much perfectly fitting in their age demographic lmao), so there ya go ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
and on that subject, while i do try my very best to tag appropriately and make a clean bill of this blog and don't believe there's anything much in it that would warrant a full 18+ warning (except maybe for my incessant sailor mouth......sorry ;-;), please do feel more than free to block and/or unfollow if anything makes you feel uncomfortable or if you simply want to!!! that's completely fine and greatly encouraged even bc this hellblog is full of nothing but pure brainrot anyway oops we're all about that very cool funky important internet safety here *flips cap backwards B-)* also not to be preachy grampa but i've been chronically online since i was like 12 and am now Irreparably Broken as a person for it /hj so any minors out here in the corner of the interwebs pls stay safe be vigilant and watch out for yourselves first and foremost also tbh stay away from t*ktok insta & twt i beg, okay have some virtual headpats and thank u <3
n e way don't sweat it fam i mean i wrote a whole forking dissertation paper just to answer this ask about my current age (boringly too) so that evens everything out methinks. and i don't get them much anyway so i live for asks!! hearing from other people about anything, btr-related or notwithstanding, makes me stupidly happy believe it or not (pls believe it, there is an ancient loser duwende running this blog) 😊✨ now if you'll excuse me, old man allen needs their joint medication and 18-hour nap, so g'bye for now~ (-̀◞ω◟-́)
#pls trust that the only evil villain intentions here are my insane love for bīg tīme rūsh and horrendous content creation skills >:)#but not me also getting mistaken for a mīn0r online when it already happens to me irl all the time 😭 manchild vibes are wildinnn#also now i can't stop thinking abt that 'getting carded for my transmasc gnc swag' post sbxjdj help#btw sorry this is late!! life getting in the way and all that etc. >_<;#all the windows down#anon#actually is this anything in this answer even coherent bc idk???
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That which you ridicule, you shall become.
A while back I wrote and deleted a post claiming, “That which you ridicule, you shall become,” and a smart individual asked me if they could become a billionaire by that logic.
Fair play, but no, that’s not what I was trying to say.
What kind of billionaire do we hate? A greedy one. That would seem to describe quite a few of them. But some of us become so consumed by hate, with rhetoric like “eat the rich,” that it spurs the question: why hate so bitterly?
Are we oppressed? Certainly. Disenfranchised? Of course. And maybe - just maybe - a little envious? That’s worth considering. And the tragic outcome of envy is this: when we’re given the chance to dethrone the thing we hate, usurp it, and become it, we do so with self-righteous glee.
We hate the billionaire, but we should hate the greed. When we hate the player rather than the game (the game being greed), greed is the thing we begin to embody. Or if not greed, something just as foul. A false frugality imposed on everyone. Envy taken to a different but equally disastrous end: the elimination of outliers, the shattering of all precious gems.
But I wasn’t thinking of billionaires when I wrote that.
I was thinking of illness and misfortune. I’ve found that when I put myself above a person in bad circumstances and think to myself, “That could never happen to me—I’m too careful and wise,” before too long it takes me by surprise.
A recent bout of migraines and neck pain spurred me to write this. I once thought that my good hydration habits and impeccable posture made me immune. I chided friends and family for neglecting their bodies. And all the way to thirty-one, I rarely had a headache. But when chronic pain hit at twenty-nine, I couldn’t live the same. I sat differently. My focus suffered. Then came covid. As depression got the better of me, I slouched longer and longer at the computer. Slowly but surely, the vertebrae in my neck and back began to slip. And here I am.
I told myself that my art, my joy, and my listening ear would keep my friends around. Even if I took flight like the wind, they’d wait for me. They were my roots, my launch pad, and my landing. “Begging for affection?” I thought - “That could never be me” - as they begged for mine.
Most of them are gone now. If not in presence, in spirit.
I thought jealousy was below me. When push came to shove, I couldn’t handle the idea of sharing and I had no idea why.
I took so much pride in using Apple products. They lasted. They endured just like I did. In the past month I’ve had two costly malfunctions.
My prediction is that if I can’t curb my hubris, something will happen to my legs. They might be my finest assets. I can leap like a gazelle. I have strong hobbit feet which can traverse all manner of texture and temperature. I’ve looked down my nose at people with bad joint health and told them to exercise more. Well, guess what. My right knee is going.
And I thought I could be productive as long as I put my mind to it. My identity was “creator.” The ones who did nothing but laze about, game, and complain “just weren’t trying hard enough.” Well, shit happened. Life got overwhelming and bleak and wracked with pain and my body and mind became a prison, and now I’m hanging on to what I have, praying it’s enough.
Oh, and I thought that I, a functioning adult who had overcome his pathetic teenage gaming addiction, would never backslide. Wrong.
I thought I would always know what I wanted and what I was was capable of. I pitied the wanderers, the dabblers, the doubters, and those who gave up on their dreams. And now... Well, let’s see where I am after a few more failures.
In ridiculing Christians, I became like the Christians I ridiculed.
That which you ridicule, you shall become. Not a hard and fast rule – hell, maybe it’s just my own karma – but certainly worth some reflection.
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