I really enjoy your parts of being a cane user (though I am not one myself) so don't take this in any bad way, if the tone is there, but what's a struggle with being a cane user? Have a good day!
Hello! I actually contemplated if I wanted to post anything like this… I could just say “oh haha- it’s tough going up stairs” but I want the people who don’t know about disabilities to get a glimpse of the other side.
I post my little favorite stories to spread joy, understanding, and hope. This is not that. If you wanna understand something deeper? Read this. If your looking for positivity? Stay tuned for more of my favorite cane stories to come, and click off this post.
… I try to focus on my favorite stories instead. Much more fun to tell 💜
Maybe I'm doing it wrong, but I never wish someone with a chronic illness "get well soon."
Because that's not how it works. They don't get to be "well." Sometimes they can barely remember what "well" felt like.
I go with "More good days soon." Days when the pain is in check and the fatigue lets up. Days when they can still get things they wanted to do done, or at least started.
Chronic illness means grieving for "well" and accepting that "more good days" is still worth hoping for.
I told my dad about my health. Didn't get much of a reaction, but wasn't expecting one because he's autistic and bad with emotions. Also, probably very much in shock over it. It's not every day that your 27 year old son tells you that he's dying and doctors don't know why.
I tried to land the blow lightly but he was very much not understanding (or not wanting to) the words "degenerative" and "uncertain prognosis". It hurt to say it bluntly, but I'm glad I did.
Sounded like we'll be talking more frequently, which is good! My dad and I like a lot of the same things and do get along pretty well a lot of the time. Our neurodivergencies just clash sometimes.
Edit: Doing okay mentally. Much more relaxed and unburdened. Just tired and lonely.
This Mortal Coil - Adeptus Baizhu x Chronically Ill Fem!Reader (3k)
A repost from my old account since I'm not sure how many people actually saw it what with all the visibility glitches. I wrote this for me to commemorate the year anniversary of my MS diagnosis, but sharing with all of you; a lot of Baizhu fans are chronically ill/disabled yet weirdly nobody seems to write for a sick reader...
The frail owner of the Bubu Pharmacy is secretly a snake adeptus, in the final phase of his life. While everyone knows of his quest for immortality, nobody knows the true reason why.
As he watches you, his sick mortal lover, sleep, he is alone with his thoughts and reminisces - both with joy and sadness - on your time together.
+++ Contains much angst and portrayal of degenerative chronic illness +++
It's on AO3 here.
__________
In the still of the night, Baizhu sits perched on the side of your bed as you slumber. With a gentle hand he caresses your brow and head, taking comfort in the feeling of the silky strands of your hair as they run through his fingertips like sand through an hourglass. It reminds him of the precious gift of time. As he watches your steady breathing in the flickering lanternlight, he cannot help but reminisce in this quiet moment of respite from the bustle of the Pharmacy.
Looking down at you through long eyelashes, the glow of the lantern catches his amber eyes, which exude a kindness he shows to nobody else.
As he sits with you, he recalls the first time that you, his favourite patient, had sat in his office and told him “It feels like I’m disappearing.”
He had looked at you with a quizzical expression until you had described your confusion at how your limbs had become numb, tingling and weak, your brain foggy and forgetful. The mysterious numbness had started to creep up your body.
“Like you are disappearing?” he had replied, his voice hollow as he recognised only too well the symptoms you had described.
It had been an apt description, for it was in some respect, true. The incurable illness that was silently ravaging you was destroying your body, and with it, your very essence of self. Not only was it disabling the switches that allowed you to feel and control your body, but your very personality would slowly erode, not just from the weight of your troubles, but because your emotions were also becoming harder to control.
Baizhu’s heart aches at the recollection of how you had wrung your hands in the face of his sombre words that had turned your world upside down. And how his heart had broken that he had been the one to deliver the news that shattered your dreams before his eyes. With a painful look in his eyes, he thinks back to how he had relentlessly tried a multitude of remedies to bring you relief; pushed needles into your supple flesh to release the flow of your Qi energy, given you pills and tinctures, salves and ointments, massaged and stretched your muscles to release their painful tight spasms. And you had borne the discomfort of his treatments without any complaint. Unlike his other patients, not once had you ever complained of the bitterness of his medicines. Over time, he had realised that his desire and passion to heal you was not just that of a doctor, but as someone who loved you.
A loving gaze in his eyes as he beholds your sleeping form, he recalls how you had asked him what his favourite flower was. His heart swells with emotion at the thought of how you had brought him those flowers as a thank you gift for his efforts. He laughs softly to himself at the recollection that he had eaten them because he had not realised that they were a gift to display in his office. His heart had fluttered with joy when, in the course of your frequent charming conversations during your consultations, he had discovered that you enjoyed floral teas and infusions, because it meant that despite him being an Adeptus, you both had something in common.
As the lantern flickers once more in the silent bedroom, he remembers the day he had summoned enough courage to blushingly confess his love for you with soft and quiet words. Back then he had dreamed of you sleeping by his side as you do now, but had never dared to believe that it would one day become a reality.
“You’d love me, even with my illness?” you had replied in shock and disbelief, your eyes filled with tears. “Even knowing what is to come? Even knowing that I will one day lose myself and suffer the indignity of becoming nothing more than a shell?”
Your reaction had startled him, for it had never occurred to him not to love you or take care of you until his dying day. You were no less worthy of love just because your body had decided to destroy itself and it had wounded him deeply to hear you speak that way about yourself, as though there could be people in the world who would see you as a burden.
“You will always be you.” he had replied with misty eyes as he caressed your cheek. “No matter what comes to pass, I will always see you as you are now, radiant and full of life, for that person will always be in here. ” He had pressed a gentle fingertip over your heart before holding your trembling body close as you sobbed on his shoulder at his words, clinging painfully to him as your fingertips dug into his back as though your life had depended on it.
With a slender finger, he wipes his eyes before caressing your head once more, pulling the covers up a little around your neck, around which hangs a protective Adeptus amulet he made for you; his first gift to you that wasn’t medicine.
As he delves further into his vivid memories, he feels the same butterflies as he did on the day that he had revealed that he was in fact an Adeptus. He had done so with apprehension in his heart, for he knew only too well that a snake did not have the beauty or majesty of other Adepti. Unlike a crane or a deer, most people would shudder and recoil at the idea of a snake spirit. And your reaction had startled him once more; you had cupped his face in your hands, repeating his own words to him – that the person you loved was still inside of him, no matter which physical form he took.
A smile blossoms on his face as he recalls the first time he had unveiled his true snake form to you as you had knelt on the grassy mountainside under the moonlight. How you had giggled when he had coiled his large scaly body around you, given your cheek a soft boop with his nose and rested his head in your lap, his flickering tongue tasting your happiness in the air. Instead of running in fear, you had hugged him tightly and called him beautiful. Your gentle hands had given him headpats for hours and scratched under his chin as he purred with blissful contentment and nuzzled against your soft warm body. Your soothing touch, so replete with love, had sent him into a deep, almost hypnotic meditative trance. In this way, chastely holding one another under a blanket of stars, you had spent your first night together, both knowing true peace for the first time in your lives.
That night had been the first time in a long time that he had shown his true spirit to a mortal, and even longer since he had been touched with any degree of affection. He had wept hot happy tears at your unhesitating acceptance of his fearsome form. Since then he had been your constant companion as well as the guardian of your health and your heart.
A warm feeling washes through Baizhu as he thinks of how much he loves coiling around you as you sleep, emanating a healing frequency that vibrates and hums through you, relieving your pain and fatigue, soothing your frayed nerves and easing the tension in your muscles. It brings him so much joy to envelop you in the vibrant purr of pure love, knowing you can feel a sense of peace in the knowledge that you can entrust all of your fears, weariness and anguish to him.
With a soft smile, he remembers how you had excitedly asked him about Adeptus cuisine, wanting to make him something he enjoyed, and the eagerness with which you had been willing to try his dishes, no matter how unconventional to the human palate. He had replied that he liked to eat flowers with a pleasant scent for breakfast, as they bring him a good feeling inside, calming and relaxing his soul. You had laughed melodiously and told him how cute it was. He had never been called cute before and it had made him feel as warm inside as an afternoon nap in the autumn sun. He wondered if you knew how cute you had been in that moment, with your bright and honest smile. You had giggled even more when he had bashfully confessed that he had eaten the flowers you had given him so long ago.
In the days when you were more mobile on your feet, you would go for walks and fill baskets with his favourite flowers for him to eat, or infuse them as a fragrant tea for the two of you to share, or stuff them into his pillow so the calming scent would help you both relax as you slept. The scent and the sight of these flowers would forever remind him of you.
As he continues to caress your head, he recalls the nervous flutter in his heart when he had told you all about the four sacred Adeptus love rituals marking the various stages of commitment to one another and his joy when you had shyly asked if he wanted to perform those rituals with you. To mark the first attraction and your burgeoning connection, you had fed each other orchids and lotus seeds at the Ritual of Pink Clouds, so-named after the clouds at dawn and the satin blush on the cheeks of shy new lovers. The Ritual of Flowing Waters symbolised your intent to deepen your relationship, irrevocably entwining your lives and sharing all your joys and tribulations. You had both gathered purest spring water from two different mountain streams and solemnly poured it into a single cup from which you both drank. Then the handfasting Ritual of the Blossoms, tying a cord he had woven himself from auspicious and medicinal plants and flowers, pledging yourselves to one another in this life and all of the lives to come. And then, after he had meticulously prepared the room with incense, lanterns and ceremonial foods, and you had both bathed to purify yourselves in accordance with the sacred tradition, you became an entanglement of limbs on a soft bed of silk and flowers as you consummated your love with his human form during the Ritual of the Red Moon, bringing each other to the heights of divine pleasure with happy tears as you bonded yourselves to one another for all time, the Blood Moon demurely hiding its face to give you privacy as it eclipsed itself in shades of warm carmine. It had been a moment so intimate, it had felt as though your very souls had touched.
Replaying these memories in his mind, it devastates him that your physical vessel, which houses such a kind, loving and honest heart, is disintegrating before his very eyes. It is being ravaged by an illness that has swept through you like wildfire, bringing untold destruction in its wake as it eats your body, mind and soul from the inside, like an Abyss curse. When he had first met you, the Bad Days were few and far between, but lately they have been increasing in number, and starting to outweigh the Good Days. You are but a prisoner inside your own body, which has become your jailer and your torturer. Your own mortal enemy. It is as though your body is possessed of a maleficent spirit with a mind of its own, hellbent on wreaking some sort of revenge for a sin unknown.
As he looks down at you nestled in the cosy bed and hand-knitted blanket, he reflects on how he had encouraged you to be creative, to preserve your neurological function and manual dexterity and help brighten your mood. So you had learned to knit, and had made a purple scarf for him out of the softest yarn, a physical manifestation of your love that he could wrap around himself to keep warm during the winter months, his snake spirit being sensitive to the cold. With great fondness he had run his fingertip over the irregular stitches, where your fingers had faltered; the imperfections making its charm. He had given you baoding balls to manipulate, and the gentle peals of their magical chimes were a source of comfort to him - as long as you could turn them, it meant that things hadn't gone too far.
And now your loving hands are numb and weak, barely able to grasp a teacup or open a jar. The baoding balls have fallen silent. It pains his heart to relive in his mind how you had cried the day you had irretrievably lost the feeling in them in the space of a few hours, but not because of the loss of function. The biggest woe of your selfless, loving heart was that you could no longer feel him as you caressed him. With a tear in his eye, he remembers how he had coiled helplessly around you to comfort you and how you had both wept as you once again petted his head in your lap, unable to feel his ivory scales rippling beneath your fingertips.
While his fingers continue to absent-mindedly caress you, Baizhu’s eyes glaze and become distant as he recalls how, with despair in his heart, he had prostrated himself before the Lord of Geo himself, begging him for help. The stoic dragon king had looked down at him and told him dispassionately that this pain was a sign that it was a most sincere love indeed. But that the pain was simply a natural consequence of living an immortal life. He recalled how, his forehead pressed into the dirt at Morax’s feet, his tears had fallen, causing glaze lilies to sprout from the ground. In his desperation, he had picked the flowers and brought them home to you to grind into medicine, but their taste was bitter and they had had no therapeutic benefit.
In accordance with his contract, Baizhu had protected the mortals of Liyue in his own way – unlike other Adepti he was never a warrior, but a healer.
But the many centuries spent in service of his obligations have taken their toll, and his body is now weak and decrepit, as frail as the mortals he has served for so long. Even more so. Even Rex Lapis himself is not immune to erosion. And yet, the insolent logic of nightmare had brought you – the woman he had waited an eternity to meet – into his life when he was least equipped to protect you, when his healing magic was at its lowest ebb. He spent every day wracked with regret at his past actions. Perhaps if he had been less selfless, he could protect what he truly loved now.
The cruelty of the world pained him. The cruelty of seeing you suffer, the inability to relieve your sickness or cure you in any meaningful way, the tragedy of only finding you when he was at his most vulnerable and weak. He was not even strong enough to carry you to your bed. All he could do was slow the progression of your illness and keep the inevitable at bay for as long as possible, and each time it would sap his own body of its strength. But he would gladly give every drop of his life essence to preserve your joy of living and bodily integrity just a little while longer. Seeing your smile and hearing your laugh echo in the world for just one more day would be more than worth it. How could he know that you would gladly give up your own health if healing you meant losing him?
And now he finds himself maligned by the citizens of the Harbour, their ungratefulness manifest as they mutter behind their hands and mock him for his quest for immortality, besmirching his name with rumours of experiments and cruelty against the apprentice he sheltered from Director Hu. Being an Adeptus, he had known of Qiqi’s story and had felt indirectly responsible for her plight, having seen her mortal form shivering with cold and fear in that cave so long ago, when even he had been forced to reluctantly pick up arms. And so, despite not being a man of high calibre or courage, he tried to relieve his karmic burden by taking her in. Robbed of her memory in her immortal form, she had no recollection of him.
What the two-faced gossipmongers who kowtow to him whenever they need healing do not know is why he seeks to unlock the elixir of immortality. How he longs for them to understand that it is for his true love, so that her fragile mortal vessel may hold her soul to accompany him for the rest of his days. And it is for himself, so that he may live long enough to find a cure for her suffering and, if he cannot, so he may continue to infuse his essence into her weakened body, to preserve her a little while longer.
Tonight, he curls his frail human form around you, spooning you as you sleep, a look of serenity on your beautiful face. Today had been A Bad Day. But not The Worst Day. The plane of unconsciousness is the only place where you have any respite from the daily struggle. But of course, in the morning you will wake once more. With the sun always comes the painful feeling of dread in his heart. Will today bring more deterioration? Will today be the last day that you can feel a limb or walk unaided? Will today be the day that your sight will finally fail, or you will suffer the indignity of losing control of your bodily functions? Every cursed dawn will herald a day closer to your inevitable fate, which is why you both take refuge in the tranquility of the night.
For now, all this cold-blooded reptile can do is absorb your warmth as he presses his face into your fragrant hair, smelling of the flowers he so adores. And weep bitterly.
