Also, um... could I get a smol fic where one of your disabled characters can't do something for disability reasons, feels frustrated, and gets reassured by one of their loved ones? 🥺 I'm all up in disability feels lately
I’m sorry you’re having some Rough Disability Feels! I promise you I’ve been there, and some of the beans have, too. I hope this little snippet helps you feel seen.
Rissa had seemed in a relatively cheerful mood when they shared breakfast that morning, so it came as rather a shock when Ione returned home from a few errands to find her partner sitting at the kitchen table with head in her hands…weeping.
Now, tears weren’t exactly unusual for Rissa—hyrdrokinetic magic had that effect on many people, their tempers “wired” to their tear ducts—but this particular bout seemed…wrong. For one thing, Rissa was wailing audibly, and yet she was alone. Their house was a busy one, and Rissa was in a relatively public space. That implied someone (perhaps a few someone’s) had approached with offers of comfort or help, but had been rejected. Ione would need to tread carefully. For another, the emotions Ione was flooded with, tangible in this space with the feel of Rissa’s thoughts against hers, could not adequately be described as sad, tired, or angry. The closest descriptor was…heavy. Something was weighing Rissa down, something had built up over time and now she was stuck struggling beneath it. She had chosen to push others away, but she seemed to be feeling alone in her hurt all the same. Listening to her inner voice as she settled into an open space at the table, Ione got the distinct impression that Rissa believed no one else understood. Whatever had caused this, she couldn’t articulate it in a way that made her feel heard.
“Rissa,” she called her name gently, half by voice and half by telepathic nudge, “can you tell me what happened?”
Harsh breaths hiccuped out, Rissa peeling one hand from her own face to take Ione’s instead. She must not feel up for using spoken words just yet. Well, that was fine. Ione certainly had other means available. Perhaps, in some small way, Rissa had been waiting for her without realizing it. Maybe she needed to be heard in the way only Ione could.
It hurts, it hurts, it hurts was the steady refrain.
Probing around to ascertain whether this hurt was physical or emotional, Ione came up with a solid both. Her nerves in her face and neck had been spasming more than usual today, indicating a potential change in the weather soon. Her vision was worse, it was difficult to control her movements to speak or swallow, and she was hit repeatedly with shooting pains. She could vaguely sense that something had been planned for today, some kind of surprise for Ione to find when she returned home, but it hasn’t panned out, symptoms impeding her. She hadn’t flared so badly in a long time, and the feeling of being stymied or held back, not able to use her infamous steel will to endure, had left Rissa emotionally wrecked.
“It’s all right. You were so sweet to think of me, but don’t work yourself up on my account. There will be other days, when you feel better.”
No! The objection was delivered quick and fast, feeling something like a slap. Won’t get any better!
There was an imagined image of Aris’ face, shot through with feelings of betrayal, hopelessness. Oh Ione’s own thoughts said.
Aris had recently been saying she thought she had something that could make Rissa feel better, at least in some small way. She was hoping she could neutralize the tendency of the nerves to misfire so often, so that Rissa’s ever-tense muscles would have a chance to rest, and the ever-present pain would ease off. The tests weren’t yet successful. Rissa thought she had stopped banking on a cure, stopped having hope long ago. But evidently she’d kept some hidden away without consciously knowing, and this setback felt as though Aris was holding out on her. Making false promises. In trying to make it better, Aris was paradoxically making some parts worse. Better not to let her get her hopes up at all. Better to be resigned again. She could live with that. Losing another chance at relief was much harder.
It won’t ever be better she thought once more. Give up. Stop trying.
“I know it feels that way now. Changes are difficult. The thought of adjusting again, the uncertainty of it. I know it might be easier not to hope. But I’ve never known you to give up. Let’s not start quite down that path yet, all right? This was only the first run. It took me seven tries. Seven times for it to take. You remember.”
Rissa did, and now she was hurting for her partner, showing an outside perspective to Ione’s own pained face after an unsuccessful surgery. Fearful, too. Did she have it in her to go seven rounds?
“I’m not saying it will be that way for you. But I do think there will be other chances. And I’ll be here through all the days, good and bad, hurting and not. No matter what.”